Accept, Let Go — My Messy Beautiful

Apr15

This essay is part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE. And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE.

“As psychoanalyst Erik Erikson once noted, there are only two choices: Integration and acceptance of our whole life-story, or despair.” ~From Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning

I’ve been doing a new exercise lately, when difficult memories surface. I take a deep breath, and the in-breath represents full acceptance of myself and everyone in my past, my life story and theirs. Then I breathe out, and that represents letting go of the pain and trauma that I experienced, forgiving myself and others. Breathe in — acknowledge and accept; breathe out — let go.

In the spirit of accepting myself and acknowledging my whole life story, yesterday when I was posting some pictures from ten years ago I included a somewhat unflattering picture of myself — worthwhile because of my two adorable cousins.

Poland, 2004 — Me with Hannah and Alex

I wanted to avoid the temptation to edit out parts of my life that I don’t like — like the fact that I was significantly overweight for most of my late twenties and early thirties. That was a part of me, and I can’t breathe out and forgive myself unless I breathe in and acknowledge it. I did so many fun things during that time, and it’s impossible to post pictures of them without showing that aspect of myself as well.

Ten years later, I’m thirty nine years old — about to turn forty. And I’m almost sixty pound lighter, and have been for several years. Significantly, I didn’t lose the weight by finding the perfect diet or exercise regime. I lost it by letting go of self-recrimination and shame. I lost it by forgiving myself each time I over-ate. I lost it by letting go of my identity as someone who was fatally flawed. After thirty-plus years of dieting, binge eating, and starving myself, I told myself that I wouldn’t diet anymore, that I would only have three rules for myself from now on:

1. Eat when you’re hungry.

2. Stop eating when you’re full.

3. Forgive yourself when you don’t.

Of course, this wasn’t just about weight. Weight was just a symptom and a red herring — a distraction from the deeper fears I couldn’t even face. I realized this when the pounds started coming off , and instead of being happy about it I fell into a deep depression. I realized that the feeling that there was something wrong with me, that I had a fatal flaw that would keep me from ever being loved, from ever being truly happy, went much deeper than my feelings about my weight. The weight was actually a protection for that deeper fear, and when it started coming off I was terrified that I would see — and others would see — the thing that was actually wrong with me. I don’t know what I thought it was. But I was terrified of it.

The story of the depression, the chronic migraines that abruptly worsened at that time, my experience of a dark night of the soul, and my slow but steady emergence and healing is too long to tell here. I’ve written about it elsewhere in this blog. But here, for the Monkees, and for my Messy Beautiful, I wanted to share one of the most important things I have learned:

You have done the very best you can, every step of the way. You have made mistakes, but you are forgiven. Accept yourself and your past, forgive yourself, and let it go. When you have learned to forgive yourself, it will be possible to forgive others for the times they have hurt you. Breathe in — it’s okay. Everything that has happened to you is part of your story — there’s nothing you need to deny or forget. It has all led here, and here is where you are supposed to be right now. Breathe out — Let it go. You are not defined by your pain or your mistakes, or the way others have hurt you. You can let go of all of it and live fully in the moment, and accept fully what this day and this moment have to offer you.

Here is another way of putting it:

“Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion.” ~Brennan Manning

And another:

“Be confident — you are God’s beloved child. Be humble — so is everyone else.” ~Glennon Melton

Love,

Jessica

2013 — I couldn’t find a less blurry shot for my “after” picture, but I like this one! Both messy and beautiful!

2013

Found Art

Apr12

Crack repairs on my street make an intriguing pattern:

{this moment}

Apr11

by J age 2 3/4

A Friday ritual.

A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama and Daniela. If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.

Yes, I will hold your hand for a dollar

Apr10

I love this essay by Tina Fey. Great advice for comedy and for life.

Tina Fey’s Rules of Improvisation That Will Change Your Life and Reduce Belly Fat*

The first rule of improvisation is AGREE. Always agree and SAY YES. When you’re improvising, this means you are required to agree with whatever your partner has created. So if we’re improvising and I say, “Freeze, I have a gun,” and you say, “That’s not a gun. It’s your finger. You’re pointing your finger at me,” our improvised scene has ground to a halt. But if I say, “Freeze, I have a gun!” and you say, “The gun I gave you for Christmas! You bastard!” then we have started a scene because we have AGREED that my finger is in fact a Christmas gun.

Now, obviously in real life you’re not always going to agree with everything everyone says. But the Rule of Agreement reminds you to “respect what your partner has created” and to at least start from an open-minded place. Start with a YES and see where that takes you.

As an improviser, I always find it jarring when I meet someone in real life whose first answer is no. “No, we can’t do that.” “No, that’s not in the budget.” “No, I will not hold your hand for a dollar.” What kind of way is that to live?

The second rule of improvisation is not only to say yes, but YES, AND. You are supposed to agree and then add something of your own. If I start a scene with “I can’t believe it’s so hot in here,” and you just say, “Yeah…” we’re kind of at a standstill. But if I say, “I can’t believe it’s so hot in here,” and you say, “What did you expect? We’re in hell.” Or if I say, “I can’t believe it’s so hot in here,” and you say, “Yes, this can’t be good for the wax figures.” Or if I say, “I can’t believe it’s so hot in here,” and you say, “I told you we shouldn’t have crawled into this dog’s mouth,” now we’re getting somewhere.

To me YES, AND means don’t be afraid to contribute. It’s your responsibility to contribute. Always make sure you’re adding something to the discussion. Your initiations are worthwhile.

The next rule is MAKE STATEMENTS. This is a positive way of saying “Don’t ask questions all the time.” If we’re in a scene and I say, “Who are you? Where are we? What are we doing here? What’s in that box?” I’m putting pressure on you to come up with all the answers.

In other words: Whatever the problem, be part of the solution. Don’t just sit around raising questions and pointing out obstacles. We’ve all worked with that person. That person is a drag. It’s usually the same person around the office who says things like “There’s no calories in it if you eat it standing up!” and “I felt menaced when Terry raised her voice.”

MAKE STATEMENTS also applies to us women: Speak in statements instead of apologetic questions. No one wants to go to a doctor who says, “I’m going to be your surgeon? I’m here to talk to you about your procedure? I was first in my class at Johns Hopkins, so?” Make statements, with your actions and your voice.

Instead of saying “Where are we?” make a statement like “Here we are in Spain, Dracula.” Okay, “Here we are in Spain, Dracula” may seem like a terrible start to a scene, but this leads us to the best rule:

THERE ARE NO MISTAKES, only opportunities. If I start a scene as what I think is very clearly a cop riding a bicycle, but you think I am a hamster in a hamster wheel, guess what? Now I’m a hamster in a hamster wheel. I’m not going to stop everything to explain that it was really supposed to be a bike. Who knows? Maybe I’ll end up being a police hamster who’s been put on “hamster wheel” duty because I’m “too much of a loose cannon” in the field. In improv there are no mistakes, only beautiful happy accidents. And many of the world’s greatest discoveries have been by accident. I mean, look at the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, or Botox.

*Improv will not reduce belly fat

-From Bossypants

Wounded healers

Apr5

I am a listener and a synthesizer — a “P” in Myers Briggs terms. This means I like to hear all sides of the story, get all the data, and take my time processing and making decisions. I’ve been trying to listen to people on all “sides” of the debate raging now in America: Straight conservative Christians, gay conservative Christians, progressive Christians, agnostics, the politically conservative and the politically liberal. I’ve been trying to resist the temptation to let my own leanings prevent me from really hearing people who I disagree with. It’s hard. There are a lot of hurting people in this debate. There has been a lot of collateral damage. I think Jen Hatmaker summed it up really well in her recent post, Where I Stand:

As I lay in bed, it was instantly and perfectly clear that the gay community has been spiritually beaten, stripped of dignity, robbed of humanity, and left for dead by much of the church. You need only look at the suicide rates, prevalence of self-harm, and the devastating pleas from ostracized gay people and those who love them to see what has plainly transpired.

Laying next to them, bloodied and bruised, are believers whose theology affirms homosexuality and allows them to stand alongside their gay friends. (Again, you don’t have to agree with this, but there are tens of thousands of thinking, studied people who hold this conviction.) The spiritual gutting of these brothers and sisters is nothing short of shameful. The mockery and dismissal and vitriol leveled at these folks is disgraceful.

Also wounded on the side of the road are Christians who sincerely love God and people and believe homosexuality is a sin, but they’ve been lumped in with the Big Loud Mean Voices unfairly. Painted as hateful intolerants, they are actually kind and loving and are simply trying to be faithful. The paintbrush is too wide, the indictments unfounded.

Jen is drawing, of course, on the parable of the Good Samaritan. In the parable, a group of robbers fell upon a traveler and beat him. Two respectable, religious men walked by on the other side of the road, ignoring the injured traveler. It was a Samaritan, an outcast and spiritual heretic who came along and helped him. I would suggest that the three groups above: the gay community, progressive Christians, and conservative Christians are not only the wounded travelers in the parable: We are also those called upon to help each other.

It’s hard when you yourself have been a victim of brutality, to realize that you actually have another role in the story. It’s hard to reach over from your place of pain to offer succor to the broken person next to you. It’s especially hard when he’s wearing the same clothes as the men who who beat you. But, here’s the thing: You’re wearing the same clothes as the men who beat him.

For what it’s worth, I just wanted to take this little post on my little blog to say: I hear you. All of you. Within all three of those groups listed above, I have friends and acquaintances who are sincere and loving and feeling brutalized. I feel it myself. I don’t quite know how to reach over and offer comfort yet, but I will do what I can for now, what I know how to do, and that is to listen. Thanks for reading.

{this moment}

Mar28

A Friday ritual.