I want to start off by apologizing for being a crappy blogger... a fact which has been brought to my attention several times over the past few months. The fact of the matter is, it's been a crazy roller coaster ride of a summer, and most of the craziness in my life right now isn't really blog appropriate. It's difficult to get inspired when you feel like your head is constantly spinning. No major accomplishments or big athletic events to share with you... just a lot of crazy. But, today is my one-year anniversary with CrossFit TPA, which is a pretty noteworthy occasion in my book, even though I'm miserably sick today and didn't make it to the box. Boo. So, I decided it was time to break out the laptop and try to find some inspiration somewhere. Plus, I promised, when I started this blog, to write about all of the scary shit I face in 2013... and there has been enough scary shit in my life this summer to fill a book. So, as promised, here it is.
The truth is, I've had some of the scariest Scared Shitless moments imaginable this summer. But rather than facing physical or athletic fears, these Scared Shitless moments have all been of a highly personal nature. (Of course, personal things never seem to stay personal for long... but we'll get to that later.) In the course of the past three months, my entire life has been turned upside down. I can't go into great detail, but I'll try to explain it as best I can.
When you have chronically low self-esteem, it's easy to see yourself, your true self, as not being good enough. Not good enough for society, not good enough for your friends and loved ones, and, eventually, not good enough for yourself. So you quickly learn to play roles. I call this the "Box Phenomenon." You become a people pleaser, putting yourself into different boxes for different people to present yourself as a package that will be pleasing or desirable. Lacking faith that you will be liked or accepted for your true self, you begin to try to figure out what people will like and accept... and you do everything in your power to be those things. I became the master of this. So many boxes... a different box for all of the different people in my life. The hard-working, goal-driven, well-behaved daughter box. The understanding, ever-supportive, opinionless friend box. The rowdy, care-free, guaranteed-good-time drinking buddy box. The dutiful, faithful, perpetually content wife box. The sarcastic keep-everyone-laughing coworker box. The caring, compassionate nurse box. So many different boxes. I quickly learned that I was good at pretending. That I could make myself into pretty much anything that I thought someone could want me to be. That if I could just keep all of my boxes straight and not break character, no one would ever know what a fake I was, or what I was hiding underneath. I could be accepted, liked, even loved, for who I was able to portray. For thirty years, that worked out pretty well for me.
Two problems with that. Number one, it gets exhausting. Confusing. Eventually, you have too many boxes to keep track of... too many versions of yourself. At some point, you find yourself spending so much time figuring out which person to be at any given time, that you aren't left with the time or energy to enjoy life. Number two... and this one is big... if you spend too much time playing roles for other people, you will inevitably, at some point, lose track of which "you" is the real you. When you start living for other people, you will eventually lose yourself. And once you lose sight of who you are, it can be a rocky road to finding yourself again.
I think I reached this point a long time ago. After decades of playing roles, trying to fit different molds and desperately attempting to be what I thought everyone else wanted me to be, I had completely lost track of what I wanted by the time my 30th birthday rolled around. Underneath all of my boxes, I had completely lost track of who I was. And that's a scary place to be. Lost.
Then I discovered CrossFit, and TPA, and embarked on the crazy journey that has been the basis for this blog. Finally, a box that I didn't have to squeeze myself into... at this box, nobody had any expectations or judgments or standards that I felt I had to meet. I was welcomed by complete strangers with open arms and open hearts. And for the first time, I felt like I could be anyone I wanted to be. I felt like I could be myself.
Only, I wasn't really sure who that was anymore.
As the months passed and TPA became a bigger and bigger part of my life, and as I began to build confidence and self-assurance, I began to slowly but surely rediscover myself, one piece at a time. It was a slow process, and tedious at times. Sometimes I would stumble across a piece I didn't like very much (I could absolutely do without my absurd OCD tendencies and my overly self-critical nature)... but I've learned that part of building self esteem is realizing that you have to accept all of the pieces of yourself, good and bad, before you can hope to make positive changes. So I picked up those pieces, along with the ones I liked better, and embarked on the long and often challenging process of assembling the pieces into something whole. Rebuilding my identity, my true self, piece by piece like a jigsaw puzzle.
The stronger and more confident I became, the clearer things began to appear. The jumbled collection of scattered puzzle pieces were starting to look more and more like a finished product. But something was still holding me back... I was still tentative. Still scared to really open myself up to the person underneath the boxes. What would I uncover there? What if I didn't like that person? What if nobody liked her? What if she's even weirder and crazier and less socially acceptable than I always thought she would be?
It wasn't until after my completely epic experience at the Patriot Games (which I'm sorry I haven't written about... I hope to, someday, because it was a truly amazing day in every way) that I really took the plunge and decided it was time to let go of those fears. Time to tear away the boxes once and for all, and embrace whatever I found inside. I felt such intense happiness that day... being part of a team, giving every ounce of everything I had, letting go of my inhibitions and my fear of competition, and putting it all out there. It took a lot of courage to stand up with my far more badass teammates and perform in front of a crowd... and that courage was repaid with one of the most incredible, emotionally-charged, rewarding experiences of my life. That person -- the person I was at the Patriot Games -- was someone I liked. That was a version of myself that I could not only live with, but be proud of. Who knew what else I could uncover?
So I made a vow to myself that day: no more boxes. The only box I belong in is CrossFit TPA.
The coolest thing about the Patriot Games was the surprisingly enormous amount of joy I found in that day. In overcoming a huge fear... in finally not letting my head get the best of me... in doing what I love, with the people I love, and enjoying every brutal, sweaty, painful second of it. After the last WOD, as I sat under the tent and enjoyed a hard-earned beer with my wonderful teammates and the rest of the TPA athletes, it occurred to me that, in that moment, I felt happier than I could remember feeling in a very long time.
I'll fill you in on another secret about people with chronically low self-esteem: we don't do happy very well. We constantly question what we could have done better, what everyone else is thinking about us, whether or not we're being judged... because we are constantly judging ourselves, and therefore assume that others are doing the same. I spent so long not letting myself be happy. I didn't think I deserved to be happy for the longest time. So to sit in the sunshine with some of my favorite people, celebrating a near-perfect day and feeling completely and utterly content... that was huge for me. And for the first time in a long time, I began to think that maybe I do deserve to be happy, after all. Not just that day... but in general. To just be a happy person, happy with myself and happy with my life.
Doesn't everyone deserve that?
But in order to be happy with myself, I needed to really know who that was. Hence, the no-more-boxes vow. I was feeling more confident than I've ever felt in my life. Stronger. More secure. And I was finally ready to discard the conventional idea of who I was supposed to be and what I was supposed to want... to figure out who I really was, and what I really wanted out of my life.
What I wanted, when I really opened myself up to the possibility, was to feel as fulfilled in every aspect of my life as I was by my fitness journey. CrossFit, being an athlete, doing something I loved that was just for me... that piece of my life was pretty perfect. But the more I looked at the other pieces, the more I realized that they weren't as good. And I began to see what a huge hole I'd dug for myself while I was hiding in my boxes. Because for all of the years that I spent being who I thought I was supposed to be, and wanting what I thought I was supposed to want, I had actually been settling. Settling for a life that was ordinary, and monotonous, and mundane.
And when I really thought about what I wanted my life to be... it wasn't any of those things.
I'd spent so many years of my life checking things off of some imaginary list, hoping that, if I could just obtain the things that "normal" people want, maybe it would be less obvious or less detrimental that I was weird and different and a little bit crazy. If I could create a life for myself that looked like everyone else's, maybe I would finally fit in. So I made my list, and pursued the items on it one by one. Degree from a good school: check. Respectable career that pays the bills: check. Husband who loves me and would do anything for me: check. Home ownership: check. At the age of 30, I had everything I thought I wanted. When I found a hobby and a passion in CrossFit, I thought my life would be complete. I thought I would finally have it all, and achieve that elusive goal of happiness.
So why, almost a year later, did I still not feel whole?
It wasn't until I finally tore down my boxes, let go of the conventional idea of success, and opened myself up to my truest, deepest desires, that I came to a shocking and painful realization: I finally discovered who I am, and what I want out of life. And it is a completely different life than the one on my checklist.
Let me assure you that there is no more terrifying moment, than the moment when you realize that the life you want does not even remotely resemble the life you've spent three decades building for yourself. The moment when you realize that you will never find true happiness in your life as it stands. The moment when you realize that you have a choice: continue leading a safe, comfortable life that is essentially a lie, or take a leap of faith and chase your happiness, without the first damn clue where the chase might lead you.
I took the leap.
That leap of faith has completely turned my life upside down. Everything is changing so quickly that it makes my head spin. I've made so many mistakes in my past... mistakes that have hurt people who I never meant to hurt, mistakes that ultimately trapped me in a life that didn't feel like my own. And now I know why. When faced with the choice between living with my mistakes (and the consequent regrets) or getting out of them, there really was no choice. I have to be true to myself. So, I've essentially ripped life as I know it into a million tiny shreds, and am now faced with the daunting task of putting them back together into something that makes sense. It feels impossible at times. Scary as hell. More terrifying than all of the Scared Shitless moments from this blog combined.
It's just so much. Trying to find myself, find my happiness, do damage control on the people I've hurt unintentionally along the way, and figure out where the hell I go from here... it's a lot to deal with. Overwhelming. Painful. So when some very private details of my personal life suddenly became very, very public... well, you can imagine how much that intensified those feelings. People started talking. A lot. As it turns out, judgment and criticism and hurtful gossip have a way of finding you even in the seemingly safest of places, even among the people you always thought you could trust. And before I knew it, my deepest secrets were everywhere. Trying to figure out some very personal, very scary, very unfamiliar parts of yourself is hard enough on your own. Infinitely more difficult with an audience.
It's been a pretty rocky summer.
In addition to the rest of my life spiraling out of control, I was struggling with the one aspect of my life that usually helps me hold everything else together: CrossFit. I've been dealing with a recurring left shoulder injury since shortly after the Patriot Games, which has had a very adverse affect on my progress at the box. What started as an occasional twinge rapidly turned into constant pain. Soon, I was failing at lifts that I'd done easily weeks before. My pull up deteriorated into thin air and has not been seen since. My Olympic lifts, which I'd been working so hard to master, went down the shitter. My numbers were going down instead of up, I wasn't able to do the prescribed weight on most of the WODs for the first time in months, and I found myself stagnant, or even moving backwards, while everyone around me was PRing and getting stronger and faster and better. When I was planning to try for a split jerk PR but couldn't manage to get 80% of my previous one rep max over my head, I felt completely defeated. In addition to the rest of my life being a mess, I was now sucking at the only thing that was keeping my sanity intact. For the first time in a long time, I felt weak. And for someone who has spent the better part of the past year focused solely on getting strong, that is an unspeakably shitty feeling.
That was a real gut-check day for me. I went home and cried. A lot. I wallowed for awhile. Thought about throwing in the towel on this whole life reconstruction and going back to my old, safe, ordinary existence. But then I got to thinking about CrossFit... about why I love it so much, and why such a seemingly arbitrary hobby has completely changed the way I see the world and myself. Thought about what it really is that I take away from the box every day. And it occurred to me, in the midst of my wallowing and pondering, that there are many different kinds of strength. Physical strength is just one of them. Oddly enough, in a sport that focuses primarily on becoming physically stronger, that is really only the tip of the iceberg of what I've taken away from my time as a TPA athlete. And while the ability to do a pull up, or rock Angie like a boss, or put up huge numbers on the PR board can only take you so far outside of the confines of the box, the other kinds of strength that CrossFit teaches can impact every single aspect of your existence. So while my physical strength has seen better days, I'm choosing to focus on the other ways that my time at the box makes me stronger every single day. And those other kinds of strengths are what I really wanted to write about today. So, here we go.
Strength of Conviction
Everyone wants something different out of their CrossFit experience. Some people want to be fast... thrive off of finishing first, getting the most rounds, posting the best time. Other people want to put up big weight... Rx the WOD, nail big PRs, and focus on getting stronger. Still others choose to focus more on technique... executing the perfect power clean, banging out a set of textbook-worthy overhead squats, or exhibiting a flawless snatch. (Yeah. I said it.) And then there are people who just want to get in a good workout, burn off last night's dinner, and challenge themselves in a way that other forms of exercise just don't demand. No two people have the same goals or expectations when they walk through those garage doors. We all want different things. And while the idea is to improve in all of these areas, very few people excel at everything. There comes a time, in your CrossFit career, when you have to ask yourself the question: What do I want out of this? Personally, I want to lift heavy shit. It's what I love. And while I respect the importance of improving my met-con and gymnastics to be a well-rounded athlete, my true love is lifting. So, if given the choice between loading up my bar and having a crap time/fewer rounds, or scaling on weight and finishing quickly or getting in more reps, I'm going to choose to add weight every time. As a result of this, I almost religiously finish last in all of the WODs. But that doesn't bother me anymore. I know what I want, and I'm willing to sacrifice things like times and rounds to achieve it.
Strength of conviction, in a nutshell. Knowing what you want, and being willing to do whatever it takes to get there.
This kind of strength applies to life outside the box, as well. I've learned that this summer. I've learned that, in order to be truly happy, you have to figure out what you want out of life. And then you have to go after it... ferociously. Relentlessly. Unapologetically. You have to be willing to fight. Willing to struggle. Willing to sacrifice. Willing to fail, again and again, sometimes, before you finally reach your goal. Willing to be questioned, criticized, and judged, sometimes harshly, by people who don't understand or want the same things... willingness to ignore the questions and judgments, and to forgive the people dispensing them. Willing to persevere, no matter how hard things get, knowing that anything truly worth having, is worth fighting for. Knowing that the best things in life rarely come easily. Knowing that you deserve to be happy, that you owe it to yourself to strive for that happiness. Knowing that you will make mistakes... that there will be wrong turns and dead ends and road blocks of every imaginable kind... that it will hurt sometimes. Because life hurts sometimes. Knowing that it is going to be a bumpy ride... but that the destination will be beautiful enough to make every second of it worthwhile. And knowing the harsh reality: you can't always get everything you want in life. There are some things that just aren't feasible, no matter how desperately you want it or how hard you're willing to fight for it. We don't always get to choose what our hearts want, and sometimes, they lead us to impossible situations. But true strength sometimes lies in knowing, along with that reality, that you owe it to yourself to try anyways. Because you never know what's possible, what you're capable of achieving, until you give it everything you have.
Life is all about goals. Whether it's a back squat PR you're chasing, or something bigger: a promotion, a fresh start, the love of your life... strength of conviction is essential. Both inside and outside the box. And every time I try for that big PR and nail it, I get a little stronger. A little more sure. And a little more willing to fight for the bigger goals in life.
Strength of Perspective
When I first hurt my shoulder, I tried working through it for a few weeks. When it kept getting worse, I took a week off, thinking that rest and Prednisone would do the trick. Came back, felt great for about three days, and then jacked it up again doing heavy squat cleans. Not wanting to take any more time off, I started modifying my WODs to protect my shoulder... subbing in sit ups for pull ups, front squats for thrusters, avoiding anything overhead or involving hanging from the bar, because those things destroyed my shoulder. Unfortunately, those are also all of the things at which I already suck miserably, and should be practicing as much as possible. I was so frustrated, watching helplessly as what little progress I'd made in upper body strength (my perpetual weakness) rapidly disappeared.
One day, after a particularly crappy WOD in which I had to modify pretty much everything on the board, I was complaining to a friend/fellow CrossFitter over cocktails, lamenting my inability to practice the things that really needed work and the loss of what little strength I'd managed to build in those areas. I made it through my whole rant without interruption, and then awaited a response. After thinking it over for a moment, my friend just shrugged, sipped her drink, and said nonchalantly, "Oh well. Just think how strong your legs will be when this is all over!"
At first, this response to my lament infuriated me. How dare she try to be positive when the proper response was clearly to graciously accept her invitation to my pity party and join in on the whining?! Unacceptable! But I bit my tongue. And over the course of the evening, time and thought (and a few dirty martinis) softened me up a bit, allowing me to give her perky point of view a trial run. Maybe I was looking at it all wrong. Maybe this was my chance to work on other things. Shoot for the front squat, back squat, and dead lift PR goals (200#, 220# and 300#, respectively) that had been eluding me for some time. Work on my pistols. Focus on technique in my oly lifts without the internal pressure I always put on myself to pile on the weight. There were so many things I could work on that didn't involve further shredding of my rotator cuff. That's the beautiful thing about CrossFit: if you find yourself stuck on one thing, unable to practice one skill... there are a hundred other things you can work on instead. Always room for improvement somewhere.
Sure enough, in the weeks that followed, I made huge gains in some areas while resting and protecting others. Tammy helped me work on my dead lift form, and my numbers went up. I subbed in heavy squats for overhead lifts in most of the WODs, and my front and back squat numbers went up. All the while, my shoulder was starting to heal, and I could slowly start incorporating upper body work back into my WODs. All was right with the world again. (The CrossFit world, at least...) And a few weeks ago, I finally found myself back in PR city: 215 front squat, 225 back squat, and, to my astonishment, 305 dead lift. BOOM! Just like that... I'd made big gains, while still allowing myself to rest and heal where I needed it.
This was a major light bulb moment for me. My friend, while not giving me the response I wanted at the time, gave me exactly what I needed: perspective. We can't always control the things that happen to us, but we can control how we react to them. Instead of seeing my injury as a detrimental setback, she helped me to see it as an opportunity for growth. So simple... but so brilliant. It's all about how we look at things. I saw a shoulder injury, and she saw a chance to get stronger legs. I saw an occasion for a pity party, where she saw an opportunity to reevaluate and regroup. Every situation has a positive side and a shitty side. CrossFit has taught me that my ability to succeed (or, at least, to perceive success) depends heavily on which side I choose to embrace.
Perspective.
Outside of the box, it's even more important. Especially when the road gets rough and life isn't everything you might like it to be. When we come across setbacks in CrossFit, and in life, we have a choice. We can view it as a reason to throw in the towel... or we can embrace it as an opportunity to rise above and overcome. We choose whether the hard stuff defeats us or strengthens us; breaks us or makes us. Our choice. I despise clichés, and this one in particular, but I'm going to throw it out there anyways for lack of a better way to make my point: as the saying goes, when God closes a door, he opens a window. I don't know about all of that, but the door analogy fits my situation well, so I'm rolling with it. With the many drastic (and admittedly scary) changes happening in my life right now, a lot of doors seem to be closing for me every day. Some of them, I've closed myself, voluntarily, by my own choice. Others have slammed shut unceremoniously and unexpectedly in my face as part of the aftermath of the aforementioned choices. There has been loss, and hurt, and bitterness. By letting the truth in, I seem to have ushered a lot of people out, leaving them to slam doors behind them as they go. But, on the other hand, there is also a window of opportunity (you see what I did there? Okay, nevermind) opening for me. Opportunity to finally be honest with myself and those around me. Opportunity to see who is going to judge and condemn and walk away, and who will stay by my side through it all... because the latter are the people who I want to keep in my life for the long haul, and the former probably didn't deserve their spot there to begin with. Opportunity to set the record straight, and give myself a fresh start and a clean slate.
Perspective. It's the difference between a horribly painful ending, and a chance for a beautiful new beginning. Between suffering a crushing loss, and making room for the next great find. Between defeat, and a second chance at victory. Between failure and room for improvement. Between despair and hope. And as difficult and painful and scary as this whole process has been, a part of me is enormously relieved to be taking steps towards my ultimate happiness. I'm choosing to celebrate the good that will come in the long run, rather than dwelling on the pain of the immediate. Because, yes, I'm hurting in a lot of places. But I'm also healing in others. And when all is said and done, I have faith that I'll walk away from this mess stronger than ever.
Which brings me to my next point...
Strength of Faith
If you think about it, CrossFit is all about faith. We have faith in our coaches... faith that they'll guide us, teach us proper mechanics, tell us if they think we're overfaced. We have faith that they will keep us safe as we attempt to do crazy things. Faith that they're not lying to us when they say that the God-awful workout on the whiteboard will not, in fact, kill us.
Faith in our bodies. Faith that they will hold up as we put them through things that no totally sane person would ever have any desire to do. Faith that they can handle whatever we throw at them. Every time we go for a PR, or attempt a new skill, or ask our bodies to try something they have never done before, we're taking a little leap of faith... because honestly, we have no idea whether we are capable of that one-handed handstand, or that big overhead squat, until we take a deep breath and just go for it. We just have to have faith that our bodies will pull through for us.
Faith in ourselves. Faith that we are stronger than we were yesterday. That we are strong enough to face whatever horrors appear in the WOD on any given day. That we will survive that last round, those last few reps, that final run, no matter how loudly our brains are screaming to the contrary, if we can just push through.
Faith makes all the difference in CrossFit. In a sport that is often largely mental, I've learned not to underestimate the power of faith. When I'm going for a big lift, if I don't believe in my heart that I can make it, it's pretty much a given that I won't. If I get focused on numbers and PRs and competing with myself, I usually psych myself out and fail. So I've learned the best method for me: I don't count how much weight is on my bar until after I complete the lift. I just throw some plates on, take a deep breath, and tell myself, "You've got this." And you know what? With that faith guiding me, I usually do get it.
Faith has been an essential part of my CrossFit journey, which, in turn, has taught me the importance of faith in the rest of my life as well. Faith in God, or whatever higher power you believe in. Faith that we are all part of a bigger plan, and that everything happens for a reason, even if we can't identify that reason at the time. Faith that, while there are many things in life that we can't control, everything will work out in the end if we can just have patience. (That part is scary for an OCD control freak like myself... surrendering control. But the fact of the matter is, I'm not running this show. It's all part of the big picture. And the more I learn to let go, the more peace I find.) Faith that people come into (and go out of) our lives for a reason. Faith that the future holds beautiful things for us. Faith that even the shittiest of times will eventually come to an end, and faith that something better awaits us on the other side.
Faith that, no matter what, we will be okay.
A blind leap. Believing without proof or probable cause or any other concrete evidence. Choosing to believe, to hope, to trust. I trust that, no matter how difficult and painful and lonely and confusing things become, those feelings won't last forever. That eventually, with time and patience and a lot of blind faith, things will get better. That this crappy period is just one part of a bigger journey towards my happiness... and that my journey is just a tiny part of a much bigger plan. That, in the grand scheme of things, this is far from being the end of the world, even though it feels that way at times. That this, too, shall pass.
Everything happens for a reason. I truly believe that it was no coincidence that I found CrossFit and TPA at the time in my life when I felt the most lost. Not coincidence that the people there came into my life, changed it, and helped me to find myself. At the time, it seemed like such an arbitrary whim, walking through that garage door for the first time to try something new and scary. But I realize now, that it was so much more. It was meant to be. I was looking for so much more than a workout. I was looking for a change... for a catalyst to start my new life. And that's exactly what I found. Definitely not a coincidence. Part of a bigger plan. And I have to believe that everything I'm experiencing now, all of the learning and the changes and the fear, are part of the same plan.
The decision to make changes in my life, to let the truth in and try to find real happiness... not unlike going for a huge PR. Starting out completely unsure if it will work... if I'm strong enough. But knowing that I won't be able to live with myself if I don't at least give it a shot. There's fear, doubt, apprehension. It's heavy... heavier than anything I've ever attempted before. No way of knowing whether or not I can handle the load. No way of knowing for sure if this is the right move, or if I'm taking on too much and risking getting hurt. No way of knowing if I will succeed or fail. But, just like a big lift, the trick here is to not overthink. To close my eyes, get the perfect set-up, and let faith take me from there.
Deep breath. You've got this.
Strength of Judgment
This is one that I'm still working on, and with which I still tend to struggle. But I'm getting there.
One of the hardest things about CrossFit, for me, has been knowing how to make good decisions. Knowing when to take rest days. Knowing (or acknowledging, rather) the difference between soreness that I can work through, and pain that I can't work through. The difference between hurt and injury. When to push through, and when to protect. When I discovered my passion and drive, I wanted to go all out, all the time. Every day. I took the "go hard or go home" mentality very seriously. Seeing the changes in my body, the rapid increase of my strength, and all of the progress I was making just made me want it more... made me want to push harder, go farther. But with time and experience (and a few verbal smackdowns from people wiser than myself), I'm learning that pushing too hard can be detrimental. That the body works better, and progress happens faster, when you give yourself the necessary time to recover. That injuries don't heal if you don't give them time to do so. That you can have too much of a good thing. That part of being an athlete is knowing when to stop.
I've always been the kind of person who is driven by emotion rather than logic. I tend to follow my impulses, go with my gut... and by the time my brain catches up, sometimes the damage is already done. Hence why my "lift first and ask questions later" mindset at the box came as no surprise to me. Taming those impulses, learning to listen to my body and give it what it needs... learning to silence the little voice that tells me to keep going no matter what... a constant struggle for me. But I'm learning. And I'm a better athlete for it.
I'm learning the same lesson in life. I've never been one to look before I leap. Which is how I've ended up in this mess in the first place. Mistakes I've made in the past, things I convinced myself I wanted at the time because it seemed like the "right" thing to want... all impulse decisions. And sometimes, the impulses are good. The impulse to be honest at last, despite making a mess of my life and causing myself and others a lot of heartache, was a good impulse. But not all of them lead me to positive things. Sound judgment. Good decisions. Moderation. Patience. These are the things I'm trying to learn.
Just like in CrossFit, I need to learn when to push and when to protect. Not just my body, but also my head and my heart. I need to learn when to fight, and when to give in. When to hold on, and when to let go. This applies to everything. Especially to relationships. Friendship, and love. Because the sad truth is, not everyone that comes into our lives are meant to stay there for the long haul. People come and go. They fall into and out of love. Relationships change, and evolve, and sometimes they end. But the important thing, I think, is knowing which ones to let go when the time comes... and which ones to hold onto as tightly as you can. Which ones are worth fighting for.
Strength of Self
The really cool thing about CrossFit is, you get to choose who you are every time you walk into the box. No matter what's happening outside, no matter how you're feeling or what's on your mind, CrossFit gives you the opportunity, for an hour a day, to let go of it all and be who you want to be. You can walk into the box, clear your mind, and declare to yourself, "Today, I am the person who doesn't give up." Or, "Today, I am the person who is going to rock the shit out of this WOD." Or, "Today, I'm going to be the best that I can be, whatever that is. Today, I am the person who gives my all." CrossFit allows us to be the best versions of ourselves. Instead of being the person who gives up when things get hard, you can be the person who perseveres, pushes through, overcomes. You can let go of any doubt, self-consciousness, and fear that you may be holding onto, and let your inner badass shine through. That is a wonderful, empowering feeling. Whoever you want to be for that hour of the day... as long as you believe it, you can be it.
That's why CrossFit has been my favorite part of the day, for as long as I've been doing it. But over time, I've realized... why does any of that have to change when I walk out of the box? Why can't I be that fearless, self-assured, confident person for the other 23 hours of the day? When I'm at the box, I know who I am. I know what I want. I don't worry about being judged or laughed at for being who I am or how I perform. So why do I let that worry and fear catch up with me the minute I step out of the box?
I know exactly why. Because I've never been secure enough with myself, with who I am, to let go of those feelings and just be me. I've never had that strength. But you know what? I'm getting there. I'm realizing, slowly but surely, that it doesn't really matter what the rest of the world sees, or what people think of me, or whether or not people understand me. All that really matters, in the long run, is what I think of myself.
Strength of self. Knowing who you are. Being who you are... unquestioningly, unapologetically, fearlessly. Recognizing and embracing your strengths; identifying and accepting your weaknesses while trying to strengthen them. Being proud of your accomplishments. Knowing that you've made mistakes, will continue to make mistakes, because we are all human and none of us are perfect... but also knowing that you must be able to forgive yourself for those mistakes. Knowing that forgiveness is key to forward progress and self-improvement. Knowing that, at times, you will struggle and suffer and hurt, because that is an inevitable part of life... but knowing that you are strong enough to overcome these things. Learning to love yourself... not just accept who you are, but to truly love the person you have become, and the journey that led you there. Because if you don't love yourself, who you are inside, how are you ever going to truly love your life? And isn't that what happiness is, loving life?
This might be the hardest kind of strength to achieve. To let go of your inhibitions, to let yourself off the hook for your mistakes and shortcomings, to let your true, best self shine through every day... this takes a level of confidence and self-assurance that I haven't quite reached yet. But I get closer every day. And as much as the avalanche of changes in my life recently have thrown me for a loop, I know that these changes are necessary to get me where I'm going. Necessary to the process of finding myself, forgiving myself, and loving myself. This is my mid-life crisis WOD, and no matter how much it feels like I'll never make it through to the end in one piece, I just have to push through, keep fighting, keep believing. Be the badass who never gives up. Just another WOD.
And the good news is... it can't possibly be any uglier than Fran. And I survived that evil whore just fine.
Strength of Patience
This statement will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me... I am not a natural athlete. Not even close. There are people who can walk into a box, learn things quickly, improve rapidly, and become badass awesome CrossFitters in no time at all. Well, I'm not one of those people. Nothing at the box has come easily for me. It all has felt foreign and awkward and hard from day one. I'm uncoordinated, I struggle with even the simplest movements, and I'm 99% convinced that I will never, ever manage a proper squat clean. I've had to fight and work and practice my ass of for every single little thing I've learned at the box... and I still suck at most of it. Getting better at some things, frustratingly stagnant on others. I'm lucky in that my legs seem to be naturally strong... but that's about all I have going for me. Given anything involving technique, or upper body strength, or endurance, or pretty much anything that does not involve squatting, it's a pretty safe bet that I'll struggle with it. I am not, by any means, a natural athlete.
I want so badly to be good at this sport. So badly. I want to improve, to compete, to be a total badass. But, let's face it. Today marks my one-year anniversary with CrossFit TPA, and the list of things I can't do is still longer than the list of things I can. I still finish last fairly consistently. Still have to scale on weight in more WODs than I'd like. Progress is slow... definitely slower than I'd like it to be. And sometimes I get incredibly frustrated with myself for not being able to perform at the level I feel I should have reached by now.
But... slow progress is still progress. I am definitely not the same athlete, or person, I was a year ago. Or a month ago. Or a week ago. Because no matter how obnoxiously slow my progress seems to be, I know that every day, with every WOD, I get a little bit stronger. A little bit better. A little bit tougher. And even on days when I feel like I'm standing still, or even moving backwards, I know that, in the bigger picture, I'm moving in the right direction. Slowly, steadily... but surely.
Patience.
This process has taught me so much about patience. You can't lose 100 pounds overnight. You can't perfect a skill the first time you try it. You can't just will yourself to a big PR or a great time on a benchmark WOD... you have to be patient. You have to put in the time, and the work, and slowly chip away at smaller goals. Because those are what add up to the big things. And eventually, in time, the big things will come, too.
I'm doing my best to apply this concept to my life outside the box as well. Right now, it's pretty much a jumbled mess. One chapter has ended, but it feels like the next one hasn't quite started yet... leaving me staring at a blank page... a little confused, a little scared, and thoroughly anxious to see what's in store in the next installation. Because this one's a hell of a cliffhanger. It's this completely bizarre sensation of being in limbo; of floating between the past and the future in a present that doesn't quite make sense yet. And a big part of me is just incredibly frustrated and wants to get this show on the road. I've finally figured out what I want out of life... now when do I get to find out whether or not I can have it? When do I get the happy ending? Or do I get something else entirely? What the hell is going to happen with the mess I've made? I just want to know. NOW.
Patience. I've never had much of it.
But I'm trying. Because I know that, just like in CrossFit, you can't rush progress. You can't hurry through half-assed and expect big things to happen. The best things in life take time to develop. The biggest decisions in life take time to properly analyze. All good things take time.
So, I wait. As patiently as I can. Waiting to turn this blank page that separates the "What I Had" chapter from the "What I Want" chapter. Waiting to see what comes next.
I wait with strength of conviction, knowing what it is that I want out of life (finally), knowing that it won't be an easy road, but it will be worth it.
I wait with strength of perspective. Knowing that, no matter how difficult or scary it is to close this chapter of my life and embark on a journey into the unknown, this ending is opening up a world of new beginnings. And the possibilities are endless.
I wait with strength of faith, knowing that whatever is meant to happen, will happen. Knowing that I can't always control the outcome, but that with faith, I will be okay in the end, no matter what that outcome may be. No matter where this road takes me, I will be okay. Knowing that someday, it will all work out as it should... and that someday will be beautiful.
I wait with strength of judgment, knowing the difference between the time to fight and the time to surrender. Knowing that what I've found is worth fighting for.
And above all, I wait with strength of self. Knowing that it's okay to be different, to be unconventional, to love whoever or whatever your heart leads you to, to change your mind, to make mistakes and not always get things right on the first try. Knowing that, while I've done some things that might seem terrible, I am not a terrible person. That I deserve to be happy. That I will face judgment and criticism, and that not everyone will understand... but that it isn't really about them anyways. Knowing that the people who belong in my life will be there no matter what. Knowing that I'm never alone. And knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, who I am and what I want. Refusing to lose sight of that, no matter how ugly it gets along the way.
I can't help but go back to one of my favorite quotes. I think I've referenced it in previous blog posts, but it's too perfectly appropriate not to use it here:
"For what it's worth, it's never too late... to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with different points of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again."
So, here I go. Starting all over again.
If you've been reading all this way in hopes of some epic, detailed public confession, I'm sorry to disappoint. Someday, I hope to write about all of this for real. But first, I'm waiting to see how things play out. There are some very difficult truths that need to come to the surface. But that will come with time, faith, and patience. Now is not the time for me to be making any internet announcements for the whole world to read. (Although the way rumors are flying, I can't help but wonder if someone has already beat me to it...) The truth is, I really don't owe anyone an explanation. When the time is right, when everything is less up in the air and more resolved, I hope to be able to share my story. Because if it works out how I hope it does, it's a pretty damn beautiful story. In the meantime, here's a thought... if you want to know what's going on in my life, try asking me. It's a much more kind and effective method than starting or perpetuating hurtful rumors. I don't have anything to hide anymore. I'm not ashamed of what I'm going through, or who I am. People will either understand and be supportive, or they won't. And that's something I'm going to have to deal with as it comes.
Things are going to get harder before they get easier. I know this. Honesty is always the best policy, but certainly not always the easiest course of action. Shit's going to get pretty heavy for awhile. But you know what? It can't possibly be as heavy as all of the boxes I've spent my life carrying around. In fact, I already feel lighter. More free. More myself than I have in a long time... possibly ever. Because I truly believe that the pain, the heartbreaks, and the struggles will eventually fade, and I'll find my happiness. The life I was meant to lead. It's out there, somewhere. As long as I have the courage to keep fighting for it.
Summer is almost over. I've never been more ready for fall... for changing leaves and changing weather and a fresh start. But first, more fears to face. Tomorrow, I'm running the Tough Mudder. This absolutely scares the shit out of me, especially since I'm currently sick as hell and can't really breathe. The following day, I'm finally crossing another item off of my bucket list: I'm jumping out of an airplane. Also terrifying. The chances of me dying this weekend seem a little too high for comfort. I'm definitely scared shitless. But in all honesty, neither of those things can possibly be scarier than what I've ben through this summer. Can't possibly be scarier than writing this blog post. So, I say... bring it.
Bring it all. Bring on the fear. The struggle. The unknown. I'm ready for it. CrossFit, and this journey, have prepared me well. Made me a fighter. And I'm ready to fight. I'm ready to start over, embrace a new beginning, and let go of the past. Whatever's next, I'm ready. I'm waiting. With conviction, perspective, faith, good judgment, patience, and strength of self, I can face whatever is coming my way. I feel like the timer is running, and any second now, I'm going to have to close my eyes, take a deep breath, and just go for it. All out. Wanting every piece.
3... 2... 1...
