Nothing the See Here...Move Along {via the Past}...

Out in the middle of nowhere {okay, it was Coulterville, California~population 201} somewhere during the first few weeks of our grand RV escape, longing for a TV to watch Giants Baseball or even a little NFL, desperate for free wi-fi {who am I kidding, we would have PAID for it} we headed to the nearest town and parked next to this truck.

 

 

There were names of soldiers, some POW but mostly KIA, covering nearly every inch of this truck. Very somber to say the least. However, what I saw, right outside of our Jeep's passenger window, where I sat when we pulled next to this truck, literally took my breath away.

 

 

PFC. Rachel Bosveld was my sister-in-law (my sister is married to her brother) and I was shocked to not only find her name on this truck, thousands of miles from her home state of Wisconsin, but that her name was one of the first I saw. Tears instantly filled my eyes. Rachel was killed during a mortar attack on the Abu Ghraib Police Station in Iraq. She was just 19 years old. She and I did the music for our siblings' wedding in Alaska just 2 years earlier.

Rachel

It was such a surreal moment, seeing her name on that truck, one that still twists my gut and dampens my eyes. It makes me wonder what it's all about...this life. Sometimes we think we have so much time that we put things off or take them for granted...always promising (if even just to ourselves) that we will get around to doing {fill in the blank} another day. But we are not promised another day.

Emerald Pool above Vernal Falls rests on a solid sheet of polished granite.

Hiking through Yosemite this past week, feeling overwhelmed by the smallness of our existence while walking across a gigantic slab of granite polished by a glacier some 100 million years ago, I had moments of clarity...that in the grand scheme of things probably 90% of what occupies my mind {worry, fear, longing, blame, past hurts, resentment, regrets, etc.) add no benefit to my life. Not only that, but these thoughts are robbing me of my present life.

I lost count of the number of stairs we climbed up to the top of the falls...but they almost broke us, however our spirit (and ego) pushed us forward.

Our second day in Yosemite, Clark and I climbed to the top of Vernal Falls via the Mist Trail. It's about 1.5 miles one way but has a 1000 foot gain as well. I had misread the guide and was under the impression this was marked an "easy" hike. It was far from easy and at one point we contemplated quitting and turning back. However, once we completed the climb and the equally, if not more, gruelling decent the pain and suffering seemed to evaporate as we celebrated our accomplishment.

A little toast to surviving the hike at Camp Curry.

But that's the key, in a sense...to release the pain so we can relish in our ability at having overcome the obstacle. Whether that pain is from something our parents did (or didn't do), something hurtful some guy said to us years ago, some misunderstanding we had with a friend or co-worker that got so blown out of proportion that our Ego won't 'let' us forgive or forget, a test we failed (or class for that matter), a relationship that didn't work (perhaps from our own indiscretions)...whatever the obstacle or challenge that we have had to deal with and lived through demands our celebration.

zensationalliving.com

At some point, after the pity party (which is hopefully short lived) and mourning, we need to let go so we can continue to live in the moment. The past has nothing to offer except the lessons we've already learned...and we need to rehash those about as much as we need to keep tracing our letters in cursive and practising our multiplication tables over and over {ahem, in other words it's time to move on}.

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Rachel was 19 when she died thousands of miles from home...almost 9 years ago to the day. As I sit here at my comfortable desk, sipping a lovely Petite Syrah, watching the San Francisco Giant clench their spot in the World Series I wonder what her life was like, and what would/could have been. I wonder if she had the chance to love someone with all of her heart, if she stopped and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face or laughed when she got caught in a sudden downpour. I hope so...I hope she enjoyed every moment she was given, even the hard ones...and I hope you do too.






Things I learned by judging others...

We all do it...we compare and contrast, criticise and judge. Our society seems to promote it given all of the reality TV shows like X Factor, America's Top Model, The Bachelor and the many others that seem to be taking over our prime time TV slots. "People Watching" (and websites like The People of Walmart) is past-time many of us enjoy for the sheer entertainment value but {generally} without any real underlying mean-spiritedness intended. Well, truth be told, I think most of us know it's not exactly nice but...it is hard to resist.

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We try to justify some of this because we don't really know those people and/or they are kinda putting themselves out there for our scrutiny (sorry Jersey Shore cast...but you asked for it). But the repercussions of our judgemental nature come to light when it hits closer to home, like when we catch ourselves judging our friend's behavior or choice in clothes/car/mate/hair color, especially when it's done in a negative way. Sometimes we even view other's Facebook posts as ego-centric and self-serving (ummm, hello...it's their personal wall, what should they post about?). We even catch ourselves discrediting another's accomplishment by saying things like "yes, but..." (i.e. "Yes she ran a marathon but did you see how slow it was??").

I'm guilty. I did do all of this and more. I'd really like to say I am beyond judging others...that somewhere along the way between meditation and yoga and running and growing and reading and learning that I've become secure enough with myself that the need or desire or that judgemental mechanism inside of me has been removed. But it's still there and rather than dwell on how bad of a person I am I've decide to take a deeper look at myself and find a lesson in it all.

O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;

It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock

The meat it feeds on.

~William Shakespeare, Othello

You see, most of the time, when I catch myself judging someone I can trace it back to jealousy, insecurity or even a fault in myself that I see reflected back from someone else's behavior. The easiest for me to identify is when I say something like '(insert a beautiful famous person's name here) isn't really all that pretty' (I said this last night about Britney Spears and then had to correct myself later, she is beautiful). I know that the source of this is my own insecurity. It's more of a reflection of my own self-doubt than of someone else's beauty and actually makes me less attractive inside (which really is all that matters anyway, right?).

 

Take that to the next level and when I find myself criticizing (mentally or to another friend~call it gossiping or it's heavily veiled nom de plume, 'venting') a girl friend who just lost 20 pounds or finds herself in a wonderful and healthy relationship I can pretty much bet that my own insecurities and jealousies are screaming out for attention...(and it's up to me to decide if they get it).

 

It is never wise to seek or wish for another's misfortune. If malice or envy were tangible and had a shape, it would be the shape of a boomerang. ~Charley Reese

But I also found that when a friend's behavior kinda rubs me the wrong way it's often an indicator that we share a trait that I don't particularly care for in myself. Maybe I don't like how much so-and-so gossips, or brags, or plays victim, or seeks attention, or meddles into every one's business. But if I sit there quietly and ask myself why it bothers me so much (especially when it doesn't really even affect me) the answer may be hard to swallow. It's as if a mirror is being held up to my own face.
 It's the ultimate in deflecting because of course, I can claim they are much worse than me. I might even use the words 'well at least I don't...' or 'I may be ____ but at least I'm not that ____'. What 'we' (because I don't think I'm alone here) are really pushing is the idea that we are the lessor of two evils (well, if you don't count the shit talking we're doing).

One of the most important things I learned from judging others was that it wasn't them that needed to change. It was me. I was the one judging  (and if they were doing the same that was their business) but for my own growth (and sanity) it was important for me to learn and at least try to change. My jealously was making me less...not because their success was stealing my joy or sucking up all of the goodness or beauty available in the world, but by making me into that girl...the one who thought that knocking someone else down would somehow lift me up.

There's enough love and beauty in the world for all of us have...it's an endless supply, which means we don't have to "take" it from one person and give it to another. When I see a beautiful flower it doesn't mean that some other flower shrivels up a little and becomes ugly...like a sacrafice to the other's beauty. Same with people...whether it's inner or outer beauty there is plenty to go around (not to mention it already exists in each and every one of us...though we often can't see it through our green-eyed veil). 

There's a beautiful piece from Elephant Journal I came across this morning that speaks about this...I hope you take a moment to read it here.

Where "Self-Help" fails...

For a while now I've been kinda beating myself up for not having a big group of friends from which I could pick and choose to accompany me to the gym or coffee or a crazy shopping spree a la Sex and the City to buy all of the latest trends. I've always thought it was a flaw (being shy) or that maybe people just don't like me {insert pity-party here}. 

image via Pinterest

Actually, this is not a new place to be for me. As an Air Force Brat I sometimes looked at our moves as an opportunity to reinvent myself...yea, even before Madonna was doing it...and I would tell myself that when we arrived at our next duty assignment I was going to answer only to my middle name, Susanne. I felt Lynn was boring...and obviously my name was holding me back. In my mind if I changed my name then I could change who I was completely. But I always chickened out and when introduced to new people I would blurt out "Hi, I'm Lynn", afraid they would somehow figure out I was an imposter if I said otherwise.

Sue Heck from The Middle, when she changed her name to Suki.

Over time I read numerous books that promised to change me into who I was really meant to be, which I am sure was a table-top dancing socialite who also happened to be BFF's with Jen Aniston, with total disregard to who I already was. Always trying to fix myself whether or not I was even 'broken'...that is the conundrum created by self-help-itis.


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It's as if we don't have enough pressure in this life...pressure to wear the right kind of jeans (Gloria Vanderbilt, of course) and shoes (Reebok's...without socks) in Junior High, pressure to pick the right career path (I'm 41 and still don't know what I want to do with my life let alone figure out what my calling is...I've been listening but have not received a reply yet), pressure to marry the right person and have babies (I remember my dad telling me when I was a little girl that I could be anything I wanted and then doing a complete 180 and saying there was nothing wrong with me being a housewife)...so we add in the pressure of always striving to be different or somehow better then who we are.

And we are convinced that it is a never ending quest...It can be exhausting...

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It's a fast track to disappointment because, if you're anything like me you didn't wear the trendy clothes in Junior High (nor do you wear them now) and maybe you didn't marry the right person the first {or second} time around...so you perpetuate this inadequacy by reading books or watching TV shows that make you feel like you should be...well, like any one else except you.

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So I may not have that many girl-friends or a standing lunch date every week but I do know (after my car broke down 2 weeks ago when it was 100 degrees out and I had a trunk full of groceries) that I do have friends who are there for me when I need them. I also know that I really enjoy an abundance of alone time (call me selfish) preferring to do many activities on my own without the pressure of accommodating someone else's expectations or happiness (none of that "what do you want to do? I don't care...whatever you want to do?" so you pick something only to be told "well, certainly not that...anything but that...").
I'm an introvert and no amount of self-help books or subliminal CD's will change that (I know, I've tried about 100 ways to create a New and Improved Me) and I'm pretty sure that even if there was that one magic self-help book that could change me I wouldn't buy it or even download it to my Kindle. Nope, not gonna do it.

Certainly there are a lot of areas in my life where I can improve. I'd like to work on my cooking repertoire (which I think my husband would appreciate since right now his dinners consist of grilled chicken, rice, veggie followed by grilled steak, rice, veggie with an occasional grilled fish, rice, veggie) and of course I want to work on my writing, photography, editing, running, and spiritual life (I might have mentioned once, or maybe 5 times, that I wanted to make meditation a priority in my life once again).

There's a fine line between pursuing goals or finding ways to grow as a person and falling in to the self-help trap that makes you wish you were some one else (okay, so maybe being a rich heiress wouldn't be all that bad). Our quest to be a better person shouldn't make us feel inadequate or flawed because of specific personality traits. Not everything should be viewed as something we need to 'fix' but rather something we can use to enhance our other experiences.



via Pinterest

These past few days I've been researching the first leg of our Grand RV Adventure. In roughly 4 months we will be pulling up stakes and hitting the road permanently in our RV loving named The Mutiny. Planning long stays in State and National Parks with no electricity and only my husband as company I realize the benefits of being introverted when it comes to seclution. As the weight lifts off my shoulders and the self-blame disappaites like sweat in a tech-tee I find I am comfortable being me.

Silencing the Past

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I used to keep a journal. It was your basic composition book type journal (the old hard backed black and white notebook), which I felt was very Holden Caulfield-ny...someone I thought I'd rather be, especially when I was writing. Before the composition book when I was a young girl I remember having a real Diary, it even had a lock. Later, in high school, I kept a plain old college ruled spiral bound as a journal, until my father 'accidentally' mistook MY yellow spiral bound book of secrets as HIS yellow spiral bound book of work notes and read it...it was not good. It was then when he learned, at work, that I was no longer virgin.

Me, age 17 on a day pass from the hospital in Anchorage where I was 'recovering' from anorexia. My dad came down from Fairbanks to visit me during Christmas.

But, even as an adult...primarily when I was struggling with some love sickness, loneliness, undefined life plan, or...loneliness (yes, I know I said that already) I felt drawn to write in my hard backed comp book. I had learned of it's importance while hospitalized in Charter North for anorexia at age 16 (not long after the above incident), some 350 miles from our 'home' in Fairbanks Alaska. I had also learned that I could make people laugh and get high praise from my English Lit and Written Composition professors at University by writing about what seemed to me the mundaneness of my life.

When Bridget Jones' Diary hit the shelves my journaling took on a new life. I would be sure to write in it daily lest it miss me too much. It was a friend and confidant. It was a place I knew, in the back of my mind...even while the shit was hitting the fan...where I would go to write down all of the awful things that were happening to me at that instant. Somehow that made it all tolerable, although I would find myself weeping onto the pages as I relived my days...the pain of horrible breakups, empty promises, loneliness, disappointment, financial struggles, etc., etc., etc...

Maxx

I wrote about my horse, Maxx, and the devastating effect his death had on my life. I wrote about my old boyfriend, Adam, who would promise to come over and then never show up...for days or even weeks. I wrote about my disappointment over where my life was headed...no where. Wasted talent, wasted mind, wasted life. Always wrapped up in either a boyfriend or lack there of. Pages and pages of me reasoning with me. It's hard to be smart and logical yet always making the worst decisions possible.

Don't get me wrong, my journaling led to quite a bit of insight, especially when I would reread what I wrote. Often I would barely recognize the words as my own. Sometimes even the handwriting was different...me but not. Or maybe me just telling me in a different 'voice' how to get out of whatever situation I was in. I had no family around me, opting to live in Northern California, 3000+ miles from my parents, even when I was in my mid-20's. There would have been no shame in 'going home' at that age after a divorce and having only a $13 an hour job for income.

The best wine for my limited income.

Instead, I journaled. And watched a shit-ton of Friends and Seinfeld. Oh, and then Bridget Jones' Diary came out on video...so I watched that, over and over and over again. I developed my own break-up/pity-party basket...Gloria Gaynor's song I Will Survive, the movies "Singles", "Reality Bites" and later "Elizabeth", "Closer", and "Love Actually", microwave popcorn and 2 Buck Chuck for dinner. I worked a ridiculous amount (full time with as much OT as I could get at a car dealership and then part-time waitressing at night) just so I wouldn't have to be home...alone.

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But my journal...that's what kept me sane (or somewhat sane because I literally thought my life was spiraling into oblivion and happiness would either never be mine or only found in a pill). In desperation I tried that pill which was called Paxil...only to find out it didn't bring happiness, it brought blase...a non-committal to any kind of emotion happy or sad. And as painful as my life seemed to be I knew that I would rather feel that pain to full extent if that was the only way to be able to recognize the joy that I knew I deserved. I got rid of the pills, focused on my journaling and started meditating.

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Many years have passed and I find myself reading Joyce Maynard's At Home in the World: A Memoir right now (thanks to a post by Michele at Yoga Freedom Blog). Joyce, as well as her mother, kept all of their letters over the years...and even made carbon copies of the one's they sent. Writing on a topic which happened 26 earlier, Ms. Maynard has at her finger-tips, not only an exquisite memory but years and years of correspondence with her family as well as author J.D. Salinger (whom she ended up having a relationship with when she was 18 and he was 53). Being inspired yet again to journal I recall, with mixed emotion, that I have destroyed ALL of my old ones.

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Gone...each and every one of them. Not long ago I came across one (which has since been destroyed) read a few pages and experienced a visceral response (something like embarassment) to the pain and struggle I went through. I felt I had changed so much that I couldn't (or maybe didn't want to) relate to that person who wrote those words...that they came from a moment (or year) of weakness. A weak person, unhappy and confused, whose words were not worth saving. What could I possibly learn from those words and why would I want to reread them anyway?? By destroying those journals I felt I was silencing the past...but the lessons have still been learned.

There are lost moments, realizations, and insights to be sure. But I won't be dwelling on them. Instead, I have my not-so-good memory and those of my closest and oldest friends and sister. It's not that I want to relive my past or dwell there for some sentimental reason. I'm happy right here in the present, while occasionally venturing out to plan some amazing adventures in the near future. Perhaps destroying those journals was the right thing to do...I will never know because there is no other option. Perhaps, for me, that act of writing down my feelings and battling them out on paper was all I needed.

But now, with computers and internet and 'free' blogging sites I find myself enjoying the process even though I know it can be a more permanent record...perhaps not so easily destroyed as those old composition books. As I grow older (and hopefully wiser) I understand that all of those moments...even my weakest ones, are what helped to form who am I right now. And for that, there is no shame or embarassment.

Hate-Loss Challenge Week 2

This week's Hate-Loss topic is about self-acceptance and living our lives in the "now". For a more detailed explanation please refer to this post at Fat Girl Wearing Thin.

Exercise for the week:

Think about the answers to these esteem-deflating questions.  How often do you carry these thought around with you on a daily basis?

My life would be so much better if I were only:

I’d be so much happier if I had a better:

I wish I weighed:

When I look in the mirror, the first thing I criticize about myself is my:

The one negative word that I use about myself over and over again is:

Now, answer these questions so that they can be seen by everyone reading your update:

I often receive the most compliments on my hair, eyes and smile.

What I admire most about myself when I look at my reflection is I look damn good (for a 40+ year old). {Okay, I might have a little bit more work to do here.}

I take pride in my work ethic and ability to challenge myself.

I love the fact that I can get dirty and play hard yet still look pretty in a dress.

My greatest quality is I'm easy going and easy to get along with.

Over the past couple of years I have been working hard at taking it easy on myself. Yes, I still set goals and challenge myself with difficult endeavors (like Tough Mudder, running a marathon, and now Climbing Mt. Shasta) but my approach has been one of celebrating my body and what it can do rather than punishing it. 

In the past I've joined in many different challenges, most of them focusing on weight-loss or physical challenges that seem more about quantity over quality. For someone like me, it is easy to become so wrapped up in these challenges that I will do almost anything to accomplish that goal...even things that are truly harmful (like fasting, over-exercising and exercising when injured). All the while, my desire to achieve these goals has been based on my dislike of my own body, focusing only on those parts of my body I 'hate'...it was a sort of punishment.

Perhaps it's my age or the fact that this past year I have been face-to-face with other people who are just like me that I've been much more aware of the harm I've been doing to myself, both physically and emotionally. I found myself getting irritated with a few friends because I felt they were either training incorrectly and ignoring their nutritional needs, or both. I found them extremely competitive and their ego's were out of control. Because I had such a strong reaction I decided to really explore where these feelings were coming from and what they were really about. What I found not only surprised me, but caused a bit of embarrassment. It was as if I was looking into a mirror...the things I was so pissed about were the very same things I was 'guilty' of doing...basically an on-going reward and punishment system that not only kept my weight yo-yoing but also was emotionally draining. I was constantly stressed out and often took my frustrations out on myself or my loved ones.

For me, taking the time to be introspective and question my own thoughts has revealed a new acceptance of my self. Sure, part of me would still love to lose 10 or 15 or maybe even 20 pounds (that's the side of me that wants to wear a skimpy string bikini this summer) but the other side of me wants to be able to celebrate my life without always feeling like I'm not quite good enough to celebrate. My body is amazing. I'm so fortunate to have full function of my limbs, I'm healthy, injury free and have a love for adventure. How on earth would it make sense to try to put life on hold until I feel I meet some ideal weight goal??

After spelunking down 165 feet!!

Either way, the days, weeks, months and years will pass. I can weigh 8 pounds too much (by whose standard anyway??) and have a great time hiking around Calaveras County with my new husband, or I can sit at home, making meal plans, counting calories and opting to not to go on any trips (I'd just spend all of that time, surrounded by beauty, worried about how my muffin top might look in the pictures anyway) until I reach some arbitrary goal. When those thoughts creep in (and they do) I ask myself "will this matter in one year? Five years? 20 years? When I'm dead?"...

That spec is me on the zip-line...1500 feet of zipping over the tree line. Weeeeeeee!

I'm healthy, and other than vanity, there is no logical reason for me to worry about losing weight. There is no one out there in this world whose judgement of my weight has any sort of impact on my life. I won't make any more money if I lose weight, I won't magically become happier if I weighed less, I won't become rich and famous nor will my quality of life improve. What am I waiting for? Nothing...

Hate-loss...On Letting Go...

One of my most beloved bloggers (and possibly my twin, separated at birth), Ellen at Fat Girl Wearing Thin is hosting the Hate-Loss Challenge for the month of January. This is my first time participating so forgive me if for the bumpy start, I'll be learning as I go.

The premise of the Hate-Loss Challenge is a means to begin healing our emotional self. As Ellen points out (and I often participate in), there are thousands of 'challenges' out there from weight loss to running a prescribed number of miles to giving up coffee to swinging a kettlebell 10,000 times in a month (<<- Yes, I'm doing that one again) but rarely do we see a challenge that offers a deeper look at our emotional well-being AND provides the support of others battling the same issues. We learn from each other...and we can heal. 

This week’s exercise:

Think back to a time or place in your life when you formed negative thoughts about yourself. Why do you think you are undeserving of praise? Was there a specific event that caused you to change the way you perceive yourself? Is it because you’ve always been reminded of your imperfections or weaknesses? Is it because you’re not receiving enough positive feedback from people whose opinions really matter to you? Do you have unrealistic expectations of yourself? Were you taught these habits from living in an unhealthy environment? Write about it, and then ask yourself: How can I find a way to forgive those who have hurt me? How can I forgive myself?

Okay, I have to be honest here and say that off the top of my head I cannot remember exactly when or why I started to believe I was less-than anyone else...I just knew I was. I have a very beautiful and outgoing older sister. She's the life of the party, she's fearless, she's smart, she's successful...she also caused my parents a lot of grief during her teen years. 

I was awkward, a tomboy who was shy and hated group activities because, for some reason, I felt I would let the team down. I opted for individual sports, which I did well in but didn't help my social standing. Instead I tried to excel in school and keep peace at home feeling that if I did exceptionally well it would balance out what my sister was doing. I suppose in my young mind I couldn't understand the attention my sister got for being bad while I was basically put on the back burner.

It's funny that I was resentful of that attention when it was exactly what I had brought on myself! I didn't make things better for my sister or my parents...I only succeeded in making myself invisible. Which brings even more light to the fact that at age 16, after a traumatic move to Alaska, I became anorexic. A mix of trying to become less while screaming for someone to notice. 

As much as I love my parents, I often find it incomprehensible that they never really addressed my extreme weight loss until I was well below 100 pounds. It wasn't until I saw myself in the mirror...a glimpse as I stood naked and turned my head to look at something. I caught an image reminiscent of a holocaust victim. I mean no disrespect, but this is what I saw...thighs as thin as my arms are now, a hollowed out buttocks, razor sharp hip bones and every vertebrae standing out boldly. Had I seen myself only from the front I would have seen an ugly, worthless girl who doesn't deserve attention because that's what was so familiar. It was only in seeing this reflection that did not seem to be me that it clicked...and I asked for help.

Getting ready for senior prom AFTER I was released from the hospital where I spent 3+ months in therapy and gaining weight.

I've battled ever since then with finding self-worth that isn't tied to my weight, which I think is just a deflection of the attention I seek. I can blame my parents for focusing their attention on the daughter that desperately needed it (my sister) but they were doing the best they could. I know this and I accept it. I could blame my sister for being a trouble maker or outgoing...but she is who she is based on her experiences. She didn't do those things to make me less...I know this and I accept it. I could blame myself for internalizing every single negative comment, eye-roll, dismissal or every Friday night I stayed at home alone reading or studying...and I do.


I am in the process (through this challenge and through continued blogging and study) of forgiving myself for placing such high expectations on who I was and who I should become that I had no option but to fail. And if I didn't fail I raised the bar and kept raising it until it became impossible to succeed. I do take responsibility because I am very aware that I not only internalize and personalize things but I live out these beliefs as if they are real, going through the emotions in a very physical way. This is one of the reasons I named my blog Learning Curves...I know that I am a work in process.

Peeling Beer Labels = Sexual Frustration (or so I've heard)

Remember back in the day when peeling the label of one's beer meant they were sexually frustrated or {hopefully} going to get 'lucky'?? (There's even a Facebook Group dedicated to it see here!)  I don't know if the luck came from the perfect peel-off or the fact that guys could slap that label on some girl as if he were claiming her ('the chick with the Dos Equis label is mine fellas') but nowadays we all seem to be searching for some kind of word to help identify who we are or to which group we belong.

All of us use certain words to describe who we are...some of mine are daughter, runner, horse lover, Californian, Air Force brat, kettle bell fanatic, reader and, for some reason I've felt inclined to include wanna-be-vegan.  I was recently watching Eat, Pray, Love {again} and there was a scene in which the characters are looking for that one word that would describe themselves as well as certain cities (ie. Rome = Food).  It's just what we do when we want to try to explain the type of person we are when getting to know one another.

The problem I am having is when those descriptive words become labels and those labels somehow become negative even though I embarked on these 'earning' them on a quest to become a better person.  Or, when somehow, one feels obligated to include one of these labels because it is still perceived as 'against the main stream', such as being a vegetarian.  After all, most 'regular' folks who eat 'regular' foods don't include a "what type of food do you eat" label, "Hi I'm Bob...a lawyer who likes to hike, reads Playboy for the articles and eats fish, chicken, pork, and beef along with some vegetables and starchy foods but NOT potatoes (ewww) or peanuts (allergic), or green bell peppers (that's just gross).  Nice to meet you.".

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I am NOT 100% vegan or vegetarian but I strive to make these types of food choices MOST of the time.  I find when meeting people (and only when the food issue comes up...like do you want to grab a burger with me??) the easiest thing for me to say is that I am a vegetarian (even though I've been known to eat a piece of fish or a few shrimp).  My other option would be to go into a lengthy diatribe of all the things I will or won't eat, which would take so long that surely one of us would starve to death.  So, for simplicity's sake I claim to be a vegetarian who strives to eat vegan.

Here's the problem...as soon as you 'claim' this title, you open yourself up to complete criticism and not only from the 'meat-eaters' but also from the true-vegans.  Weird, I know.  I mean, I am completely used to getting 'picked on' by friends and family who still think it's funny that I won't eat meat (ok, except the fish) or drink milk (truly gross) and will sometimes even try to engage me into a debate about it all.  I really try not to push my own beliefs onto people but if they ask, I'll get into it.  I don't claim to be an expert at all thing vegetarian/vegan or animal rights.  I just do what I do...and it works for me.

Except when...I get lambasted by a true (yet very judgmental) type of vegan who can only point out the things I'm doing wrong instead of the things I'm doing right.  Yes, I sometimes have energy gels when I'm running that contain honey (but NEVER gelatin) and I still own a pair of leather shoes that I've had for years and years.  But I also helped gather signatures to end the crating of veal calves, volunteered to rehabilitate injured wild animals, participated in numerous petitions for animal rights and better nutrition in schools, I've written my congressmen, senators, and others in key positions on the issues that mean a lot to me, rescued a horse from the charro rodeo, etc.

I'm not trying to pat myself on the back and I'm sure there are people who have done way more than I have in helping society.  I am simply thinking that it's high time we stop worrying about the labels and dissecting people because of them.

Some other comments I've seen or heard in the blog/twitter/real world recently that apply to what I'm trying to get to here:

1- You call yourself a weight-loss blogger yet you're not losing weight?  Why are you wasting your time with this then?

2- You say you're a runner but you do walk intervals??  So, you're not really a runner then...

3- You walked part of that marathon???  In other words you haven't run a marathon.

4- You hardly have (or have no) followers on your blog so how can you call yourself a blogger?

5- You can't claim to be a vegan and consume anything with non-vegan sugar (apparently sugar companies use bone to make the sugar fine).  {So, it's not enough even if I don't eat meat, eggs, dairy, honey...don't wear leather, fur or suede, my lotion doesn't have lanolin and my vitamins don't contain gelatin but shit...I just had a teaspoon of sugar in my coffee...I might as well just give it all up and slaughter a baby cow...veal for everyone!!}

As I write this I realize I am so guilty of this...always striving but never quite accomplishing.  Because then what??  While training for the San Diego Rock n Roll Marathon I was in the zone, now, having completed it, I am suffering the goal-setter's let down.  What I've come to realize is that there really is no finish line to self-discovery.  This is all one big journey and there will never be enough words to describe any of us fully.

Funny, but true.
Source

While I understand we still need to use words to help define ourselves to others, I feel that it may be helpful to lighten up a little when it comes to expecting people to fit neatly into the boxes we create.  And maybe we need to ease up on using some labels we use to explain who we are since we are obviously so much more than any words could say and can often open ourselves up to negative self-talk (especially when bombarded with remarks like the ones above).



Note:  I do not mean to be critical of any person or group of people.  I have many vegan/vegetarian friends and acquaintances who are very supportive and helpful.  I am just venting on an experience I've had with a small handful of people who happened to be Vegan and were very passionate about their beliefs.