Depression Tried. I'm Still Here!

      I struggle with depression. Depression is not easy to talk about. There is a stigma to it which can bring on shame. I was first diagnosed with depression in high school; however I know I struggled at an earlier age. I have experienced dark times over the years. I have closed myself off as a way to hope the world would forget me and my sadness would not affect those around me. I sought medical help.  For several years now, the majority of the time I have a handle on it. I eat right, I exercise, and I removed negative energy out of my life (where I could). I still have bumps in the road, however, it has been decades since I was plunged into the darkness. The clock starts over; I survived my summer of darkness.

     Skipping the personal details, the best description I can give is my world, my snow globe, was shaken. Hard. I found myself lost and ashamed. I found myself resorting back to old habits for comfort. I started gaining weight - fast. That plunged me even further into despair. When I had to buy bigger size pants this summer I found myself on the dressing room floor in tears. Not only was I struggling with events around me, but now I found I was not able to take care of myself. 

     

     I shut down. I stopped answering my phone, my blog slowed down, and I hid away as much as I could. The stress that started the spiral downward was getting better though the damage I had done to myself was not. I became unable to fit into my clothes. This hurt the most. I could hear things people said to me after I lost my weight; "If you gain weight again your husband will leave you," "If you gain weight no one will like you." Yes, these are things a few people in my life thought were appropriate to say to me and that's all I could hear in my head. I felt like I had failed, I blog about health and here I had tossed mine to the side. 

Wouldn't let depression win! 

     

     I did my damnedest to shake the 

depression off. I still put on my bathing suit and I swam in a pool with my son for the first time ever. I did not hate my body and even if my clothes do not fit, it was not my body's fault. I stopped eating healthy and exercising. I started sneaking junk food. I pushed my husband, who only wanted me to feel better, to take us to Sonic for shakes. I ate my way through my depression all summer long. When school started I had gained close to 

30 pounds in 3 months! 

     30 pounds in 3 months is a hard reality and one that I was not sure I should share. After all, my blog started as a way to discuss the afterlife of weight loss and here I had gained weight! My blog may have started out that way; however it has evolved into a body positive blog, fighting for the freedom to love our bodies just the way they are. It turns out that includes my body, even when I am not taking care of it. 

     The reality is that life happens and hard times will shake all our snow globes at some point in our lives. It is unrealistic to think we will be able to maintain our comfort zones forever. This is why I am sharing my story. I am not perfect. I ran screaming from the wagon and didn't look back. I ate my way into a bigger size, I had maintained my size for 7 years, putting on a bigger pair of pants felt like a punch to the gut. However, I have learned that the wagon is never going so fast that we cannot catch up to it and get back on. My skies are brighter and the darkness is fading. I am human and I will make mistakes. I am human and I will learn. I am human and I will get better.  

My soul's smile when a friend understood. 

      I opened up to a few friends and realized that I am not alone. For every person who hugged me and understood my tears I thank you. It is because of these souls that I share this with my readers. If you find yourself struggling, remember that it will not last forever and it is ok to talk about it. We tend to feel we are the only ones struggling and we are not. I did not fail because I gained weight. I did not fail because I stopped caring for myself. I failed because I suffered in silence for too long. Had I swallowed my shame and confided in a friend much sooner it may not have taken so long to recover. 

     It has been a few weeks now of slowly getting back into a routine of health.  I am finding myself again. I have returned to my gym classes, cleaned up my eating, and forgave myself. I will be my own best friend in this recovery process to getting back to my healthy. In the meantime I have to be patient as the weight comes off. I have to stand proud regardless of my pant size for greatness has no size requirement! To my readers, I will be honest with you along my journey and celebrate the good things. For example, today was the first day in three months that I ran and I felt like a million bucks! I'm still here! Maybe a little slower, maybe my gym clothes are a little tighter, but I'm still here!

A Year of Honest Blogging

Today, July 10th, marks the one year anniversary of New Figure Forward. 

     A year ago I was toying with an idea to share my story to help fill a void I felt was lacking in the weight loss world.  I had only seen the 'after ' pictures; I had never heard an 'after 'story. I thought perfection would be found in a pant size. Imagine my surprise when I felt confused and lost with my new figure.  My entire body changed. My face changed. The way the world looked at me changed.  The way I felt on the inside and the way I looked on the outside did not match. When you have only known yourself one way, it is terrifying to suddenly see yourself as a stranger.  This made for a frustrating couple of 'after' years.

     I missed my bigger body on occasion. I did not like being a size 28, but I knew how to be a size 28.  Even though I wanted to lose weight, I had still accepted my role in life to be the wall flowered fat girl. I knew how to be her. I knew how people would react to her. I was her my entire life.  Now, a size 12, I had to learn the new me and the world that came along with my new figure.

     Six years after my 125 pound weight loss I have a voice. I have confidence.  I know who I am in my new figure. I found myself.  I have had people tell me the transformation they have witnessed in me is amazing.  Those that know me best have watched me go from a shoulders hunched unhealthy girl to a proud woman with her head held high.  The confidence did not hit me when I put on my dream pant size; it happened years later.

     This blog started out as a way to show the other side to weight loss. The 'after' to the 'happily ever'.  The mental healing process, the self acceptance, and the willingness to relearn myself.  These were not topics I had heard anyone else talk about. No one complains about life after weight loss! Life after weight loss is perfect and everything just falls into place. Lies. All lies! I knew I was not the only person struggling in their 'ever after'.


     I was right. I was not the only person struggling.  Through my blog, I realized the struggle to love ourselves is not reserved for specific weights or sizes. Women, some with figures I used to long for, all struggle with this need to achieve perfection so that they can love themselves.  Self-love is not the prize at the end of the journey. Self-love can be had right now. Self-love will blossom when given the green light.
   

     Moving into my second year as a blogger, I am not the same woman that started writing a year ago. This journey has been immensely healing and liberating. New Figure Forward paved my purpose to inspire others to love themselves. I will continue to advocate for less Photoshop, a variety of shapes and sizes represented in media and advertising, and the belief that our bodies are perfect - stretch marks and all! This next year will be a big one for New Figure Forward. I may have a few surprises up my sleeve. 

     My words mean nothing without someone to read them. I thank all of my friends, those I know personally and those I have met online, and my family. Without the encouragement and support this project would not have gone far. Every email I receive, every like on a post, every comment made helps me to continue pushing forward and fight for change.  Thank you to my readers! This day would not have happened without you! 

(An extra special shout out to my husband. To a man who has encouraged me grow into my own. A man who has pushed me to be my best. A man who has never seen anything but a beautiful woman in front of him.  He edited every blog, took pictures, and inspired ideas.  Thank you husband for everything you have done for me, my self esteem, and my view on the world! I love you more than words can express!) 

Photoshop and My Son

     

My 9 year old son asked me what Photoshop was at dinner last week.  I explained that it is a photo altering program that can do thousands of different things to change an image. He seemed satisfied with that answer. Then he asked me why I do not like Photoshop.  I knew this moment was going to happen one day; that his little ears were picking up things I said to friends and family. As the mother to a boy I feel it is my duty to raise a son that respects women of all sizes and understands that all bodies are beautiful.  I want my son to understand the images that he is bombarded with are not real. No one is flawless.  I want my son to question an image that looks perfect and understand women and men are not perfect in "real" life.  

     I explained to him that it is not that I do not like Photoshop. Photoshop can be used to create art or enhance a photograph.  What I do not like is that Photoshop is used to create flawless looking people. No one is flawless in life and looking at perfect people can make someone feel bad about how they look. I do not looking at ads that are lying to me with a Photoshopped model.  I could see the questions forming in his face. 

     I pulled a magazine from the recycling bin and showed him ads of women with perfect faces. I told him to look at my face when I smile, "See the lines that I get around my eyes? Now look at this model selling tooth paste. Where are the lines around her eyes? Smile like she is and feel around your eyes. Feel the wrinkles on your face. Wrinkles around the eyes are natural to everyone when they smile. Yet, this model doesn't have any? Seem odd to you?"  He nodded with wide eyes. I could see the veil beginning to lift off his eyes. Then I showed him the Dove commercial. He sat with his mouth open watching the transformation take place. 

     It is a rare moment in life when my child is quiet. We sat in silence for a few moments while he processed what he saw. Finally he turns to me and says, "I understand now why you do not like Photoshop." What he did next brought tears to my eyes. He got out of his chair and came to give me a hug. It was not just any hug; my little boy hugged me tight and stayed there for a few minutes. Finally he says, "I think you're beautiful and so does Dad. I hope everyone has someone to remind them they are beautiful." 

     My son gives me hope that I can teach him to not just accept the images he sees.  I believe the next generation should be taught that the images they see are lies. My son now understands why my magazines go in the recycling bin without me looking at them. He took it upon himself to toss one in the bin this week on my behalf.   My son sees me with no makeup, messy morning hair, and sweaty after my workouts.  A mother to a son is the most beautiful person he knows and I hope by showing him my realness as a human he will internalize the realness of women (and men).  

     While my son is young I am the role model for women to him. How I treat myself is how he will grow to view women. He is part of my motivation to maintain a healthy body, physically and mentally.  My wish is that I represent strength, intelligence, kindness, compassion, and class to him. My wish for my son is for him to grow up to value women for who they are and not base their beauty on the unrealistic physical lies brought about by Photoshop. 

Dare I Say I Have Fans?

Fat Girl Victory

     I had a victory moment. In the grocery store today I happened to see an old boss of mine from 7 years ago. When he knew me I was 300 pounds. He and I where not fans of each other but I was good at what I did so he made peace with me.  The office staff, including him, were always on a diet. I was surrounded by health conscious gym rats and in that time in my life I was not a healthy person.
   
     I tried to fit in. I took diet advice and felt like the office project. It was the first time I joined a gym.  It was the first time I ate protein bars.  I lost a few pounds. Nothing major. When I officially left my job I was relieved to no longer be under the microscope of that office. People would make comments about my lunch, snacks, and beverage choices.  No thank you. Fat shaming does not help anyone, ever.

    Fast forward to 7 years later and 125 pounds smaller. I'm in the store with my son, looking extra cute. I had my hair cut today. I had done my make up and my outfit was rocking. As I come around the corner who do I see across the isle? A man giving me a funny look. I knew right away who he was and could tell my look on his face he was trying to place me. My heart skipped a beat and I told myself to play it cool. I went about my business. He stared, gawked, and did multiple double takes.  I think he figured out who I was.

     I was jumping up and down on the inside. The fat girl in me felt victorious! After 7 years of maintaining my weight loss just about everyone has seen my transformation. Today was a BONUS!! Thank you universe for having it happen on a day I look adorable.

People are Cruel Regardless of Size When You Do Not Meet Their Expectations.

 
 Everyone has a why. A reason they are who they are. Why they dislike someone or something. Why they yell, or cry, or shy away.  Why some are loud, outgoing, and confident. Understanding the reasons behind a person actions and behaviors makes them not seem so bad, we see a human. We may even find compassion and understanding for them, instead of intolerance and frustration.  I present my story of why.  I am a product of my experiences, as we all are. Let us embrace empathy for each other before we assume and place judgement. 

     When I reached the age that I was aware of others and our differences, I was the heaviest kid in the third grade and the seed of self hate was planted.  I do not remember  a time when I looked in the mirror and loved what I saw. I grew up comparing myself to others around me, models, and actresses. I did not think I was as worthy to life as the beautiful people. I did not think I was a beautiful person.  When I was young, my grandmother told me my baby fat would go away as I got older. When it stuck around and brought some friends I felt like I had failed. Why had the other girls slimmed down and I had only gotten bigger? In that moment, I labeled myself different. My body was not like the other girls in my class and that made me believe my body was wrong.

     I learned to hide how I felt about my body in 6th grade after I had a bully physically abuse me on more than one occasion.  I would never show physical weakness again and I learned to carry myself with aggression. If I appeared scary, no one would hurt me. Inside I felt trapped behind a mask; I was not an aggressive person... I was a scared girl desperately seeking confirmation for my existence.  But I refused to let the aggressors be stronger than me.  I believed I was worth being loved and I would make it to the moment when I would find that love.

     I developed a distrust of people in 6th grade as well when the entire school, including people I called my friends, conspired against me.  I attended a small country school - the total student population from kindergarten through 6th grade was maybe 50 kids.  During volleyball practice after school I was informed that the boy I had a crush on and the popular girl where now a couple. People waited for my reaction. I held it together, made it through practice, and saved my tears for the privacy of my bedroom.  It was after dinner  when a friend called to tell me the truth, that it was a lie, everyone was in on it, and they just wanted to see what I would do.  This moment caused me to have difficulty trusting people.  I never let them see me cry. I learned to hold in my emotions.

     I carried my tough exterior with me through high school. I survived name calling, pushing, people trying to fight me, and my own dietary abuse. This picture creates an image of a large unhappy girl. Inn retrospect, I was only one of those. I was unhappy.  I was not large, though I was not a size zero.  I happen to have  a woman's figure amongst a sea of junior figures and I stood out.  Standing out in high school puts a target on a persons back and my target felt huge.

     I heard fat shaming comments for years. "Are you sure you want to eat that?" "What size do you want to be?" Funny thing is the size that seemed too big for me at 16 is the size I am now at 31! I'm not unhealthy now and I wasn't at an unhealthy weight then either.  It was the expected appearance for a teenager that I did not have, therefore my figure was wrong and I was fat.  How many girls are tortured because they do not look like the socially expected 16 year old? I kept my head down, shoulders slummed, and made little eye contact. I did my best to be invisible.

     I did have moments when I was able to forget my physical appearance and enjoy a social life in high school. I was Drama Club President and in every theater production. Acting made it easy to forget my size. I could be anyone.  My first major role was the seductive villain in a 1920's inspired play entitled "Peril on the High Seas".  I loved my character and my cast-mates.  I embraced the seductive nature of my character until opening night.  I will never forget the scene in which my character is seducing the male lead. I had on a 1920's all black glamours costume. I wore a long faux fur coat over my floor length dress. In the moment, in character I removed my coat, a move that was intended to be sexy. I should have won the Academy Award for not bursting into tears and running off stage when I heard boo's and, "Put it back on!" being shouted from the audience.  I finished the performance and accepted a very heart felt apology from one of  the other actors in the play. His friends where the shouters and he felt horrible. We preformed the play four more times and I didn't take my jacket off again during the production. I know now, looking back, that high school boys are dumb and insensitive but even rationalizing the behavior does not take away the scar.

     It just became easier for me to push people away and wallflower myself as I got older. No one was going to hurt me if they couldn't get near me. I had great friends that stuck by me but I never made too many new friends after high school. I was scared of people. I had allowed myself to be abused by a boyfriend for a couple of years because it was better than being alone. Just being able to say the words "I have a boyfriend" made me feel whole and less invisible. Of course I told no one of the abuse and hid it well.  After years of put downs, physical abuse by bullies, and constant reminders that I was not socially acceptable, an abusive boyfriend did not seem wrong. Somehow I deserved what I got because I was not pretty.  I believed fat girls should be thankful for what they can get.
   

     I believe that life teaches us lessons to strengthen our purposes, our reason for being who we are.  It is not easy to talk about my past.  I have been misunderstood by many over the years simply because I do not wear a sign explaining why I am the way I am. When I lost my weight I felt in limbo, my body was healthy but my mind needed time to catch up. I still had anxiety around people, especially in large groups.  From my experiences, people made me nervous and I needed time to trust again. New people in my life where thrown off by my social awkwardness because they did not know the "fat" me, all they saw was the new physically healthy me. Unfortunately, the old me's mind in the new me's body did not match and for that I have experienced judgment and intolerance.  The judgement and intolerance slowed the mental healing process down, people are cruel regardless of size when you do not meet their expectations.

     Am I shy? Yes. Am I slow to trust people? Very much so.  Have I ever seemed awkward at times?  Is it understandable as to why I am that way? I hope so. Now the ultimate question; why am I sharing this?  I have chosen to expose my most vulnerable side in an attempt to help people understand that we ALL are products of our environment and experiences.  As a society, if we could slow down and listen to each others stories we would learn a great deal about life, the strength of the human spirit, and the unbelievable power our words and actions have on each other.  My past has given me purpose. My purpose is to help people embrace who they are, what their bodies look like, and help them love themselves.  Self esteem is not a pill one can take, it is learned.

     To anyone the may have social anxiety, know that you are not alone and that you have an incredible amount of strength inside of you. The feeling of judgment can tear a person apart. It can make it difficult to move beyond the scars. The fat third grader, the bullied 6th grader, the humiliated 16 year old, the abused 20 year old, and the 300 pound 25 year old will ALWAYS be apart of me.  These are the chapters to my story and once the story is told, suddenly I make a lot more sense to people who just did not "get" me. I am writing new chapters to my life now and I am over coming my anxieties because my mind is getting healthy as well. The world may not see a fat girl but I have been looking at the world through fat girl eyes my entire life. It takes time to heal and trust.

     I do not know your story. You do not have to share with me. I do, however, promise to not judge and allow you the freedom to write your story because every one of us is different.  We all have a story as to why we are the way we are. Judgment will not change that - it will only put up walls and take away valuable lessons and meaningful relationship with one and another.
   

The Imperfections On My Cover

   

     I have always loved books. That is a love that comes from my Dad. I love used book stores the best. Also a love that comes from my Dad. We spent countless hours pouring over books together when I was a child. The smell of old paper is a comfort to me. Walking into a used book stores feel like a place for a great treasure hunt. I have carried that love for old books with me into adulthood. It's from this love that a lesson about my body came about. 

     I used to judge a book by its cover. Not the cover art but the condition of the cover and binding. If the book was torn, creased, lose at the spine, or had dog eared pages I put it down and moved on to the next.  My books had to be perfect. When I brought them home, they stayed perfect. I didn't lend out my books because I didn't want their condition to be compromised.  Now, as an adult, I found it necessary to stop caring about the outer condition of the books I want to read.  My love for the 40's and 50's means most of these books are no longer being published and have been around for some time. I need to grab them when I see them regardless of condition,because I may not find it again. 

     It was a book called "Gracie; A Love Story" by George Burns that taught me a lesson about bodies. This book is no longer printed and if I wanted to read it I would have to get over its appearance. The creased spine, torn corners of the cover, and lose pages didn't take away from the story. The condition of the book didn't change the story at all. I just had to hold the book carefully and try not it to add more wear and tear to it.  When I was finished I placed it on my bookshelf with a smile of satisfaction from reading a great story.  

     The cover made no difference to the story itself, like my body makes no difference as to WHO I am. I come with imperfections on my cover: stretch marks, scars, blemishes, cellulite, and more. Yet none of that changes my heart and soul. My body is the cover to my amazing story. My body has been through a lot and it can show.  Just like the creased spine of a good book, the imperfections themselves show a story.  My body is on a journey and it will get bumps and scrapes on it, as it should. I can tell you stories about each scar, the lessons I've learned along the way. When I am old I will look at the lines on my faces and skin hanging where it didn't before and remind myself that my cover has been through a lifetime of learning and adventure, my body has been used and appreciated. 

     I no longer toss aside the book with the "used" look to it. I no longer toss my body aside and think it broken, used, or ugly. My story has many chapters, my body is just the package in which a great story is held.  I would love to find all my books in mint condition but that's unrealistic; just like thinking our bodies should and can be perfect. Embrace the imperfections, they tell a better story!