Thoughts and questions. And more questions.

As I begin to live life embracing the gift of seeing others as humans first, recognizing what we share rather than what separates us, I am finding that I can recognize the individual beauty that exists within each person I encounter. It's refreshing and life-giving and right. It feels right. Sometimes it takes more effort to see and sometimes it takes a significant check of my own ego to see.

For example: the pedestrian who yelled at me because I zipped through a crosswalk a little too quickly. What she said wasn't too beautiful and what I did wasn't too beautiful, but there we were--two imperfect people who possess beauty even in their moments of not being ideal citizens.

So now I weave my way through hundreds of social interactions a day. I attempt to recognize (I am still, and will always be, learning) the sameness and the beauty of those around me. This sameness if offset by the individuality of each of my human siblings that makes the tapestry of the human family so intricately beautiful. Beauty. Sameness. Individuality. Existing in each and every one of us. Do I believe that? Yes. Yes I do. Do I practice it perfectly? Nope.

So now we come to a bigger question. And this is my kryptonite, people.

Yes, I can see the beauty, sameness, and individuality in others. But can I see it in myself?

Oy.

I wish I could say that, "Yes! I absolutely see the beauty and the value in myself and my heart overflows with gratitude and humility and I shine that beauty out to other people! All. The. Time.  Yay! Hooray! Sunshine! Jazz fingers!!"

I cannot say that.

Why?

Why, why, whyyyyyyyy?

I think there are two reasons:

Number one: I know myself. I mean, I really KNOW myself. Every failing, every nasty little thought, every insecurity.  You all see that happy, polished, positive Caroline. There is a small circle of people who know every dirty little detail and still love me, and for them I am eternally grateful. You know what they say: "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and your BFFs well supplied with whatever bribes they require." But for the most part, I control what others can see. So sure, maybe you can find some beauty here, but dang, if you only knew what was in the closets!

Number two: I have bought into the lies of the world around me: that perfection is beauty. That skinny is beauty. That perfectly organized is beauty. That calm, collected, make-a-whole-room-laugh-with-your-wit, drive a fancy-pants car, rock the fancy-pants stiletto boots (if only!), wrinkle-free (pants AND skin!!) is beauty. Some of those things can contribute to some concepts of beauty, but are not beauty in themselves. And yet I bow down to them at the altar of Image where I worship my perception of the Perfect Caroline. Who/whatever the heck THAT is. Because if I can find HER, I will be happy. Uh oh. Cue the old lady from the Princess Bride, "LIAR! LIAaaaaR!" That's one of the biggest lies I think we face on a daily basis. Find perfect/skinny/successful/wealthy and therein lies happiness.

Combine those two and you have a dangerous cocktail: personal insecurities lurking in the deepest part of the heart and bombardment from the outside that reinforces those insecurities like shiny, photoshopped steel girders with abs for days. (Okay, okay, girders don't have abs, but you get my point, right? Artificial perfection assaults our senses )

So what's the antidote for this dangerous cocktail? I like to answer questions with questions, so...

...what would it look like if I was able to see myself as I see others? What allows me to see the beauty and value of others but not myself? What is the lens through which I see them that I cannot seem to apply to myself??

I don't have an easy answer to these questions. Trust me, I just typed and deleted three different ideas. They all started out fine and then just got weird. There were, however, two questions (more questions!) that floated to the top in all of my feeble attempts to solve this complex quandary in fifty words or less: where am I looking and whom am I trying to please?

Oh boy.

To be continued...

We are more alike than we are different

I know I'm not the first person to say this.

This is not a novel concept.

But I feel that as a nation divided, we need the reminder.

Several years ago, I worked with a fantastic family that had some intriguing art hanging in their entry way. They had two large, black canvasses with different colored bars arranged in columns and rows. When I inquired about them (I love modern, seemingly-random artwork), the mom of the household told me that the rows and columns were a visual representation of their DNA. Seriously. They sent away cheek swabs and then somehow, an art lab turned them into these canvasses. Now I totally get it--this may not be perfectly scientific, but there is a lesson here. The thing that made this art so intriguing is the fact the canvasses were nearly identical until the last few columns, where the bars were arranged in a slightly different pattern. Jokingly, the mom mentioned that when they first unwrapped them, they looked at each other and asked "Are we cousins?!?" Here's the thing: these two lovely individuals were from separate continents and completely different racial backgrounds, and their DNA was nearly identical. Because they are part of the human family, as we all are.

So. It's scientific, people. We are more alike than we are different. In addition to super cool, modern art installations in suburban homes, there is actual scientific data to support this. (The Smithsonian puts this number over 99%, and I'm sure you could find a plethora of additional data to support this in various scientific journals if that's your thing.)

And it doesn't stop there.

As an avid student of human behavior, I see the similarities between individuals of different ages, creeds, races, orientation, genders every single day.

When we are sad, we cry.

When we are tired, we yawn, our bodies slouch, and we get a little cranky.

When we are hungry, all we want is food.

When we are scared, we may act out in ways that do not make us feel proud once we calm down.

When we feel safe, secure, and valued we are our very best selves.

So what does this mean in a world that is torn apart by fear, division, despair, tension? What does it mean in a world where we are surrounded by messages that tell us daily that we are NOT safe, NOT secure, and NOT valued? What does it mean when the reaction of some to this seemingly perpetual state of feeling unsafe, insecure, and undervalued is to attack the safety, security, and value of others to make themselves feel better?

Oy.

Good flippin' questions, right?

And oh, how I wish I had the answer. How I wish that I could share that answer with the world and we could all sit around, drinking organic herbal tea and living in harmony. But I don’t have it. No one does. That’s part of the human journey, right? Facing adversity, facing pain, facing confusion and trying to do our best, knowing that perfection is as elusive as a shiny, sparkly unicorn, and yet treasuring the moments of beauty sprinkled along the way.

As I have reflected on these difficult questions, another, bigger question rises to the top.

What would happen if, instead of focusing on outward qualities, behaviors, or abilities, we focused on the fact that we are all people? What if we could see people as people first? What if, instead of immediately focusing on judgment of the people around us--similar to us or different from us, negative or positive--we simply took time to recognize them as the miracle of bones and blood and sinew and heart and mind and spirit that they are? A miracle made of the same material of which we are composed? I know this sounds a little whackadoo. And perhaps time consuming. But truly, it takes less than a second to recognize the shared humanity in the person brushing by you on the street, or driving in lane next to you, or standing next to you while you wait for the bus. This practice takes discipline. It takes practice. But it makes a difference. Try it.

Sometimes, family can be messy. Sometimes, family can hurt. But within a family, you find your roots and your sameness, whether you like it or not. The foundation created by family connection provides the beginning framework for your individuality which then eventually shapes your impact in the world. It's the same with the human family. We are messy. We hurt each other, sometimes in unspeakable ways. But we possess a shared foundation, a sameness. Most of us desire the same things: to feel safe, secure, and valued. How would our interactions, our conflicts, our joys, our celebrations be different if we recognized our similarities before we noted our differences? It's certainly something to think about.

Blog, revisited

Creeeeeeeeeaaaakk.....

Pffhh, pffhh, pffhh...

Pooffff....

Welcome to my (rather feeble) attempt to use written sound effects for dramatic demonstration of what it might sound like to pull a blog out of the back closet, dust it off, and fire it up again.

It's been three years. Oops. What have I been doing for the last three years? Vanquishing the dragon of body image disorder with amazing meditations, sharing my wisdom with scores of other women, empowering the next generation with sound, passionate, and inspiring counsel?

Ha.

I've been hanging on. For dear life.

In a society that praises and rewards "busy-ness," I have been a friggin prodigy. Super talented at filling every moment. Raising babies takes time. Being a wife takes time. Running a business takes time. Being a friend takes time. Investing in the beautiful yet challenging gifts of all of these things left me drained--physically, emotional, spiritually. So I haven't had a speck of energy or intellectual capacity to spare for this blog. But things have changed. Both of my precious babes are now required to be away from me for nearly 7 hours a day and they are thriving. School is a good thing. The business I've been building for 8 years is at a sustainable level. My new business is still germinating, and I'm okay with that. Our family rhythm is still rapid and energetic, but there are periods of slower tempo that allow me to sit, think, and breathe. And write.

But now I find myself with this bizarre creature that visits on Mondays and Fridays. It's called Free Time. Whaaaaaaa??? What the heck it that?! I haven't really had free time since I was in middle school. (True story, not hyperbole!) Free Time and I are still becoming acquainted. I will let you know how it goes. (That should be an interesting post for the future.) In the meantime, as Free Time and I gradually get accustomed to each other's presence, I am revisiting the ole' bloggity blog. But I'm different now. Life is richer, harder, more complex, so I hope that my blog will be too. Body image and the celebration of beauty in each of its expressions, internal and external, are still very important to me; however, as I have matured in mind, body, and spirit, my thoughts on what it means to live a rich and full life have matured as well. So now the focus of the this blog will be broader. I'm not sure what that will look like, but my hope is to share observations of the beauty that can be found in all aspects of life: the moments, experiences, and actions that shine through the difficult, broken, and ugly.

So get ready...

...here we go!!!!

Me and My Muffin Top

I am at war with my muffin top.

I have been for the better part of the last 20 years.

As is necessary with any long-term adversary, I have given her a name.

Her name is Muffin, or sometimes when I am really irritated with her omnipresence, "The Muffin." So original, I know. I suppose I could have gone all Harry Potter style and named her "The Excess
That Shall Not Be Named." But that takes way to long to say. And write.

So Muffin and I have been locked in vicious combat since the day I discovered that the "mom" jean style , while so effective at providing a waistline five inches above the belly button, is not so stylish. Thanks, Mom, for letting me rock those well into my teens. Awesome. So I dropped my waistline and out popped Muffin.

Of course, Muffin has changed size and shape over the years, depending on what was going on in my life. In high school, she was little more than a nuisance who showed up occasionally when I had to squeeze into a too-small costume out of the wardrobe warehouse during a musical. Frankly, I was such and insecure mess in my teen years (Ahhh....the teen years.) that she was the least of my worries. In college, she started to blossom, as did my relationship with beer and late night pizza. hmmm....connection? Then in graduate school I beat her into submission with a fervent obsession with the gym. Nine hours a week, minimum: teaching, training, and working out on my own time. My body was healthy at that point in time. I can't say the same for my mind.

Oh, that darn mind again. I love the thing when it works for me. But when it decides to spin on negative thoughts, we have words.

"Trust in God, he's bigger than you."

"Be kind."

"Turn your focus outward."

"Shut it."

So here I am, years into the battle with Muffin, facing another opportunity to get the upper hand, and wondering if anything will actually change.

Here's the deal: I feel like poo. My guts are not doing what they are supposed do. I will not elaborate, because you don't want me to. Promise. I am not sleeping. I am always hungry. I am always tired. Exercise doesn't even make me feel better. Regardless of what I eat or don't eat and what I work or don't work, Muffin just keeps getting bigger and bigger. She has morphed from a little extra jiggle and skin into the kind of abdominal fat that comes from stress and poor eating and is associated with cardiovascular disease. uh oh.

So what does a self-declared "Positive Body Image" advocate do with that??

I want to accept myself for who I am, not my appearance. My health is declining (slowly, albeit, but I'm going in the wrong direction and I'm not getting any younger), as evidenced by my APPEARANCE and how I feel inside.

Tricky.

I've been down this road before. Clean things up, feel much better, lose a little weight, stop obsessing over appearance. Oh wait, when I lose weight, I obsess MORE. As I get nearer to society's ideal, I am less and less satisfied with how I look. It's a slippery slope.

Bottom line is, I am starting an anti-inflammatory cleanse, closely supervised by a certified nutrition therapist. It is likely that I will be a bit thinner at the end. So where will my thoughts be?

Well, thoughts are one of the few things we have control over in this crazy life. I so decided to change mine. As I change my body, I shall change my thoughts.

I have already started. When I glance at a reflection in a mirror or a window and I see Muffin, hanging out in all her glory, I think "hmm...have a Muffin, but that is not who I am."
or "oh! there's Muffin. when she's gone, will I be a different person? nope. So does she have any influence on my true self? nope."

I know. It's weird. But it is also WORKING. Now, when I catch my reflection, I am starting to feel a weight lift off my shoulders when I redirect my thoughts. I am starting to coexist with Muffin. So now, if she goes or if she stays, I am still the same person. I will still love classical music and club music. (Weird combo? Tell me about it!) Jane Austen will still be my favorite author. I will still be married to the Amazing Lou and be mother to my sweet babes.

I choose not to be dependent on something so changeable to determine who I am.

Prayers for Boston

I was just getting settled in to write a sassy little post when I heard of the tragedy at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Needless to say, I got distracted. First, with ensuring that my friends who ran it today were okay. Praise God, they are fine. But still my heart aches for the loss, fear, and devastation caused by the blasts. I am praying for all of those who were involved in the race today: volunteers, runners, spectators, and law enforcement, not to mention their families. I pray that they determine who was responsible quickly, before any more damage is done. Finally, I pray that fear and evil will not triumph here, and that the stories of heroism and redemption will outshine the evil no doubt intended by the person (or people) who caused the blasts. I pray that the victims will feel God's love and presence in ways we cannot even begin to understand.

REALITY ALERT! Body Image is not actually about your body.

huh?

But the word "body" is in the phrase.

When I looked it up in my college psychology book, there was a picture of a woman looking at her BODY. duh!

If you didn't have a BODY, you couldn't have BODY image.

Well, okay. All of these things are true. But here's the deal. Since I started thinking about this blog and planning ways to cleverly address the issue for all of posterity (Or, for my faithful friends who humor me by reading and commenting on my blog), my body has undergone several changes. When I started, I was toting around about 25 extra pounds after my second pregnancy. I was nursing, and I had only been exercising again for a few weeks. Then, thanks to super awesome workouts at my TaeBo gym (completely addicted, would recommend it to anyone whose knees can take it!) and an airtight eating plan from my hardcore hippie nutritionist (I LOVE Colorado!), I dropped 20 in a month or two. Whee Hoo! I should be extrememly confident now, right?!? After all, I now have a "healthy body fat percentage," plenty of energy, and I can do 120 minutes of exercise consecutively. I am HEALTHY, I am VITAL, I am all of the things I wished for in my first blog post.

SWEET!

Problem SOLVED!

Now I can blog about how awesome I am and share my wisdom with the Blog-iverse.

Oh, wait. I worried MORE about how FAT I was.

Now let's categorize the word FAT.

Technically, it is a measuable thing. It's not a perception. It's a substance, measured by its quanitity. Dr. Oz carries around a pound of it to show you what it looks like outside of your body. Yay!  We actually need it. It helps our bodies work. It keeps our brains healthy. Of course, too much of it is UNhealthy, but looking at an objective measurement, I had a healthy number. But I was looking at fat as a PERCEPTION.

I PERCEIVED my appearance in the mirror as compared to other women--those I knew personally and those I saw in the media. If I was smaller than someone, my confidence soared. If I was bigger than someone, my confidence plummetted and I hammered away on that poor little delicate thing, my self esteem. And let's face it, I am 5'8" with German ancestry. Do you think I am smaller than most people? Uh, no. So imagine how much time I spent hammering. Hammer. Hammer. Hammer. Hammer.

"Ugh."

"Ick"

"Gross"

"Well, if I just suck in a little more, then I look like her."

EEEEEEERRRRRRRRRTTT! Slam on the brakes, sister!

Are these things I would say to someone's face. NO! Never! Then why am I saying them to my heart? OUCH.

It seemed that this was my philosophy on my journey to health and self-acceptance:

"Make yourself look like everyone else, whatever the cost, and then your body will be awesome and you will feel confident and accepting of yourself and everyone else. By trying to be like everyone else, you will find your true self."

Well, gee, THAT makes a TON of sense...NOT!! (90s flashback, who went with me?)

Then, I read this:

"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." Romans 12:2

ooohhhhhhhhh....so it's NOT about my body? It's about my mind? And trusting in someone bigger and greater than me? Well, that's not the message I've heard my whole life.

And thus started the baby steps of redefining body image as an emotional phenomenon. I am sure someone smarter than me has written a book or a dissertation about this. But here I go, step by step as I discover this on my own. Wanna come too? You are most welcome to join me.

uh, hi. remember me? yeah, it's been awhile. let's crank this puppy up again.

Hello, friends.

It's been awhile.
It's not you. It's me. 
And my busy, crazy life.
And my seriously annoying perfectionist personality.

It is a very Caroline thing to charge into something full speed ahead, only to fizzle and fart shortly thereafter. Truly, I decided to take a break because I realized that my blogging time was actually my one-on-one time with my daughter and I found myself telling her, "Just a minute, Mommy is busy." uhoh. Priorities out of line, much? oops. So I told myself I would take a short break. Then I realized I hadn't blogged for a year. Then I was embarrassed that I had dropped the ball. Then I felt unworthy of blogging because, well, I hadn't gotten a handle on this whole body image thing. I still obsessed about my image and didn't feel like I should blog about it until I had the whole thing figured out and was completely above my weakness. I took notes for ideas for blog posts, but never sat down to hammer one out. Until today. Something has been triggered lately, and I finally feel like I have something to say about it. And that is.....I FAILED. But I'm okay. No, really. I am. (The people who know me best are raising their eyebrows right now, with the thought "prove it" tatooed across their brains!) I have found peace in my failure and a realization that this is not something I can do on my own. I am human. I make mistakes. I have a frequent attitude of pridefulness and a WHOPPER of an ego. I am limited to what I can imagine and what I can willpower (yes, I'm using it as a verb, more coming on that later) through. I realized that this issue comes from my upbringing, my social network, society as a whole, and the pervasive negativity, be it spritual, societal, or emotional, that nibbles around the corners of my little brain. Whoo! Put all of those things together and it's a bit much for little ol' me to conquer. But guess what?? There is something, someONE bigger than all of this. I started leaning on Him and things started to change. I am still very early in this process, and I know it will be a lifelong journey, so here goes....