True Love for Christmas

Photo Credit: Deviant Art

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am totally in love.

This is that special kind of love you want to shout from the rooftops so loud that every ear in the whole wide neighborhood perks up. The kind of love that makes you feel like a comic book superhero with the power to evade sleep simply because of a pure and profound joy. I seem to have acquired a giant grin that has taken up a permanent residence from cheek to cheek from which a bubbling, seemingly contagious giggle is nearly impossible to contain. I've been praying for this kind of love. This once in a lifetime, head over heels, nothings-gonna-stop-me-now kind of love.

*happy dance!*

Yeah. Love does funny things to a person. Every sense is heightened – you begin to notice the flashy deep red of the Christmas wreath bow; the soft pitter-patter of the cool, December rain on the window pane; the sweet aroma of golden caramels still fresh and sticky at The Local Store; the lingering embrace of a dear friend complete with an extra tight squeeze to anchor in the feelings of tenderness and warmth; the icy light surprise of snowflakes landing upon your tongue, instantly enlivening every taste bud as you open your mouth wider and extend your tongue out longer to capture even more of the delicately wrapped, teeny tiny masterpieces falling quietly from heaven above.

Love makes everything more beautiful, more vibrant, more thrilling. And, this thing, this glorious thing we call love comes in many forms – and often, when you least expect it.

I wasn't really looking for it. You know, “love.” I had flown down (on my own dime) to Boca Raton, Florida to volunteer my time and talents at a major, 11 day event. My purpose for being there was relatively simple. I was there to help setup, organize, and serve over 2,700 participants in any way, shape or form at a seminar entitled “Date with Destiny” led by the world renowned Anthony Robbins.

Photo Credit: Tony Robbins

A date with who, where and a what now?

First of all, who is Destiny? And why the hell do 2,700 people from 71 countries all over the world want to date her? More importantly, can I have what she's having??

Two years ago, I attended this same seminar and, truth be told, life has never been the same again. It's difficult to put into words how a six day seminar can all of a sudden rocket your life along the path that you have always wanted to be on. Are you struggling with your health, relationships, or business? Get to this seminar. Are you filled to the brim with life as is and want more of all the good the Universe has to offer? Buy a freakin' ticket and watch your bucket overflow. The distinctions you uncover, the multiple breakthroughs you experience (and yes, as Tony will tell you, even men can have multiple breakthr“Oooh...”s), and the extraordinary PEOPLE you meet are what makes this a life changing, monumental event. The staff, the volunteer crew, and the 2,700 participants from all over the world gather together for the same reason – to take their life to the next level*.

The amount of growth, love, and connection that one receives following this seminar is nothing short of earth shattering. Hell, make that sun shattering. It's as though life suddenly bursts open with brilliant rays of adventure and opportunity, each glowing streak leading you down a golden path of discovery with treasures you never dreamed possible along the way to collect as you journey forward. Because, life is all about the journey, not the destination. And yet, there is a destiny that has been masterfully designed for each one of us. And, it's our responsibility to live out our ultimate destiny. And sometimes, we just need a little nudge or perhaps a swift kick in the bum to steer us down the right road.

So this year, in gratitude, I wanted to give back to the experience that gave me so much. Plus, there is no number of energy drinks, pre-workout scoops, or cups of espresso that come close to giving you the same electrifying buzz as a Tony Robbin's seminar. Trust me. Pair that with nearly two weeks to soak in the Florida sun during the dreary Wisconsin winter, and it was a no brainer.

From December 6^th to December 17^th, I found myself living almost entirely in the moment. An 11 day blur of totally magnetic soul connections and bringing conversations to a depth that cultivates a phenomenal understand of the human heart. I shared hugs, laughter, tears, and Florida's grandest frozen hot chocolate. I was finally able to give myself permission to let go of past hurts and emotional angst that has plagued me for far too long. And then, I forgave myself for holding on to that pain. The decision to love mySELF and fully open my heart to the beauty that surrounds me came so organically that I hardly noticed. Until I really noticed. I was asking mySELF with love and affection, “How can I embrace, even more, God's pure love and divine guidance right now?” I had fully integrated my mission into my body, mind, and soul and was experiencing the pure grace of LIVING my life's purpose.

“I, Anna, see, hear, feel, and know 

that the purpose of my life is to 

radiate joy, love, and gratitude 

for God, myself, and others.”

I have fallen head over heels in love with ME. I have a lightness in my heart, a skip in my step, and a sparkle in my eye that I've perhaps experienced before, but never fully embodied or even celebrated for that matter. But by God, I'm celebrating now! And, fair warning, this love stuff is HIGHLY contagious. And, I'm prepared to spread it to the masses.

Wishing you and yours heaps of joy, love, and gratitude this Christmas season.

With abundant love,

Anna

*An Invitation to You:  If you are interested in learning more about "Date with Destiny" or desire to attend any one of Tony Robbin's seminars, please contact me.

My First Meeting

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

Nearly every Thursday these days, I attend our local Overeaters Anonymous meeting. The room is simple. There is a long folding table surrounded with seven tan, metal fold up chairs with faded pink floral seat cushions. The bookshelf is stacked with books and other OA literature for purchase or to borrow. Tacked on the bulletin board are a few special event flyers. A metallic gray boombox perches on one end of the table.

In conjunction with the layout of the small room, the format of the OA meeting is also simple. One of the members will voluntarily serve as the leader, and we typically take turns with reading or listen to a pre-recorded speaker. To begin the meeting, we recite the Serenity Prayer together. Then, we are asked to go around the room and introduce ourselves. It is here that each person states their first name only (per the tradition of anonymity) and introduces their addiction - compulsive overeater, sugar addict, bulimic, and/or anorexic.

Photo Credit: Empehi Blog

The memory of my first meeting is still fresh in my mind. I was nervous and anxious. I felt like “fresh blood” entering a room of seasoned and presumably “cured” overeaters. The members were welcoming, unassuming, and non-judgmental. And yet, I felt the heat rise high in my cheeks and my palms bead with sweat when I was asked to introduce myself. I had a momentary battle in my mind – even if I really WAS a compulsive overeater (I was still totally convinced I just lacked willpower and self-control), then why in the world would I openly identify, even label myself, as one? Doesn't coming to this meeting fix overeating? Certainly there would be strategies, goal setting, diet plans, weigh-ins and pats on the back that I would soon learn to end my overeating once and for all. I found myself feeling defensive. Had I been in a support group for cancer victims, I would have felt just as irritated if I had been asked to introduce myself by saying, “Hi, I'm Anna, and I'm cancer.” I refused to let compulsive overeating define me. As an intelligent, educated, introspective woman, I knew better. At least, I thought I did. Nevertheless, here I sat, in a cramped and cold church meeting room with five other addicts.

“Hi, I'm Anna. And, I am here.”

Thus began my journey in OA. I quickly identified a whole slew of other things about OA and the meetings that made my skin prickle with annoyance. The structure seemed drab and boring. The readings were sometimes repetitive, the process of “recovery” being slow and deliberate. And, despite the structure of the meetings, there was little advice for what I must DO to stop overeating. I just wanted someone to tell me what to do. That, or slap food out of my hand when my motivation and self-control quit working.

However, even with all the things that pin pointed and found “wrong” or upsetting about the program, I also felt a strong sense of belonging. I so deeply identified with much of the readings, the speakers, and saw myself and my struggles in the stories that other members shared aloud of their pre-OA life and recovery. Plus, I was still fearful. Fearful that I'd try OA, like I had umpteen other weight loss programs and diets, and still fail. So, I kept coming back. And, then, I'd skip a meeting. And, then, I'd go again. And, I'd ask questions. And, I'd cry. I cried in front of these men and women that I didn't even know. And, they didn't know me. But, I felt connected to them because they knew. They understood. And, we all continued to come back to OA for the same reason.

We have the desire to stop eating compulsively.

Let's Get Grateful

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

And, what kind of food junkie would I be if I didn't write on THANKSGIVING! The most EPIC FOOD FEASTING HOLIDAY OF THE YEAR!

Ehem.

What I mean, of course, is the holiday that's filled with all those darling messages about giving thanks and being grateful and counting our blessings. The holiday where we hold hands with family and friends around the dinner table, bow our heads, and say grace. The holiday where we ooo and ahh at the elaborately decorated floats and gigantic balloons of the Macy Day Parade.

Wait, what's that you say? You don't know that holiday? That description doesn't ring a bell?

Well, how about the holiday were we eat until stuffing comes out our ears and drink until wine dribbles out our nose. The holiday where we can barely keep our eyelids open while watching the football game because we're in a turkey-filled comatose. The holiday where when grandma asks, “Do you want a slice of Pumpkin or Pecan?” we promptly unbutton our pants, grab a second fork in the other hand and declare “BOTH! And don't forget the whipped cream!”

Oh, you know that one? Ahh, yes. Now THAT sounds like Thanksgiving!

All sarcasm aside, Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. And, to be quite frank, it's because most of my Thanksgivings of the past have included every single one of the above descriptions. I've always looked forward to visiting with family, filling my plate during the Thanksgiving feast, reflecting on blessings of the past year, playing cards, and digging into the leftovers even before the day is through. It's the entire Thanksgiving Experience that gets me looking forward to that special Thursday in November even before the first snowflake hits the ground.

And yet, with a deeper awareness of my disease, it's most important for me to continue to make positive strides during my recovery. I struggle on days that don't include a table piled high with heaping platters of my favorite foods. And, with that knowledge, I am more aware. I am more mindful of my choices and have conscientiously focused my day on more than just the eating.

And even today, Thanksgiving is still my favorite holiday.

I give thanks for my delightful community of yoga students who joined me this morning for a special holiday practice to fill their hearts and souls with some extra gratitude, love, and kindness.

I give thanks for a strong and healthy body, an insightful mind and a gentle spirit that are often much kinder to me than I am to them.

I give thanks for my incredible family and close friends. For the support I've received thus far from birth until now – especially during the past year.

I give thanks to my Creator, for having endless patience with me. For never once leaving my side, even when I did my very best to hide. The ultimate Master of Hide-and-Seek. (You always win.)

And, I give thanks for the food. For nourishing every part of my human-being. And for being so damn delicious.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tug-O-War

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

9:03PM – I'm hungry. At least, I think I am hungry. As a compulsive eater, I can't always decipher my body's true needs in conjunction with my mind's psychological trickery. At times, my brain becomes trapped, a slimy Lochnest beast, screeching and pawing from the depths of my bottomless pit of a belly - greedy and noisy and totally insatiable.

Within a matter of seconds, my body and mind begin a serious game of tug-o-war – each side fighting to be the strongest to yank the rope in a valiant attempt to make a seemingly simple decision: To eat or not to eat. Yes, that IS the question. But, for a compulsive eater, it's not always so simple. I am not able, sometimes, to decipher when eating food will satisfy appropriately or trigger a binge. Depending on the quantity of food consumed (even normal, healthy portions) or a specific type of food (or certain food groups), I may be risking an eating binge. Sometimes, making even the “simplest” of food decisions has the potential to put me in a frightful state, literally activating my fight or flight response. My mind erupts in a Civil War. My heart begins to race and my jaw tightens as I grind my teeth. Unconsciously, I chew the insides of my mouth, ripping and tearing the soft pink edges of my tongue. I have difficulty concentrating as I frantically try to distract myself (“Think, think, THINK!”) and potentially dispel the powerful urge to find food immediately.

Photo Credit: The Daily Caller

But, perhaps I really AM hungry? I notice a slight gnawing feeling in my belly and hear a quiet rumble. Not giving in to a craving is one thing, but depriving my body is another. When was the last time I ate? Did I eat too little for dinner? How about that piece of fruit I had an hour ago? My belly monster should not be shouting this loud. It's cries reverberating within my skull like echoes bouncing throughout a drafty, cavernous cathedral. No brain, no focus. I'm a ravenous Scarecrow from the Wizard of freaking Oz – if I only had a brain...

Sane thoughts do pop up, here and there, as I try one last attempt to quiet the belly beast. “It's late, you'll be going to bed in a couple of hours. You can hold out at least that long, right?” I run through a mental list. Try meditating? (Not again...) Pray? (*sigh*) Write? (I am writing, damn it.) Go for a walk, breath in the fresh air? (Hells no. It's colder than a packet of frozen peas outside!)

I think I really am hungry.

The soldiers slowly begin to ceasefire as my mind begins to contemplate food options. My brain quickly calculates just what and how much I should eat - it is nearing bedtime, after all. It's important for me to consider this carefully. It's easy to overindulge after the stress-filled battle my mind has just put me through. For normal eaters and overeaters alike, stress often activates the desire to eat. When we eat, we automatically take deeper, more satisfying breaths. Take note of that the next time you eat in an anxious state. It's no wonder so many people often feel physically calmer after a meal.

This whole scenario doesn't last for more than 5-10 minutes. On other days, it may be longer depending on how many distraction tactics I can talk myself into doing. Regardless, it complicates my food decisions - nearly every single one.

In our modern culture, how many times a day are we faced with food related decisions? The office potluck, our friend's birthday party, weekly grocery shopping, and, of course, the ultimate food holiday coming up right around the corner, Thanksgiving. Do you feel as though your hunger cues get spun up like a cycle of whirling laundry, twirling until the feelings blur together, and you can't clearly detect want over need?

Photo Credit: Silver Circle Art Center

Though I still continue to feel this way sometimes (especially as night falls...), I am actively training my mind and body to find deeper alignment so I can better understand my feelings towards food and make decisions out of love for myself and the recovery I have dedicated myself to. I want to turn my mental battles into a field of daisy's and whispering winds – gimme the unicorns and fluffy pick clouds. Is that too much to ask?

Bad Days

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

Just last week, I had someone ask me, “Anna, do you ever have a bad day?” Ironically enough, this someone happens to be a woman that I see nearly ever week in my Overeaters Anonymous meeting. “Well, of COURSE I have bad days!” I professed. I have frustrating days, joyous days, sick days, Mondays, I'm-feeling-blue days, and lots of yesterdays. Everyday, is a being human day. Just recently, in fact, the Universe reminded me repeatedly of just how “human” I really am. Three weeks ago, I washed my deodorant doing laundry. On Monday, I scorched not one, but two pots when cooking oatmeal for breakfast and steaming broccoli for supper. And, last weekend, I passed through the drive-through at Culvers, feeling particularly sorry for myself as I mentally crossed my fingers that a concrete mixer would make me feel just a tiny smidgen better. In my foggy, sad state, I ate the entire damn thing. And, I most certainly justified it all the way up until the plastic cup was scraped clean. (Tell me, what woman doesn't crave ice cream during that time of the month??) Then, I chased it with kettle chips, nearly half a bag, as I watched a spiritually uplifting documentary on Netflix.  The "spiritually uplifting" part being specifically chosen in an attempt to balance out all the ugly, woe-is-me mind chatter.

Photo Credit: Unoriginal Mom

Odd. I wasn't feeling any better.  Nope, natta. In fact, I felt bloated, lazy, and even sorrier for myself. This was clearly a bad day gone badder.

Dang. As much as I wish I didn't have those days, they still find me. Not everyday, but certainly more often than I ever care to admit to myself. In my recovery, I pray the worry and anxiety would be lifted from me and from anyone else who suffers with those triggering feelings. Our vices may manifest in differing ways, but they creep upon us like a burglar lurking in the night – ready to steal our joy, our faith, our hope for recovery and a better, brighter future.

And yet, even though I have bad days, I also have tomorrows. Tomorrows are not a guarantee, but when I am greeted by the sunrise, I see the start of a new day, a fresh beginning to continue to live one day at a time as best as I know how.

Photo Credit: Anna Lucas

It wasn't the first time I had ever been asked if I have bad days. I am generally a very happy, smiley person, so it's no wonder that people might think bad days for me are seemingly non-existent. But, I have them – oh boy, do I have them. And, when they do appear, I do my best. I try to be realistic and optimistic (though every ounce of my being feels ridden with humbuggery). I might journal (cursing like a sailor into the pages) or pray (pissing and moaning and whining and sighing) or just curl up on my futon to watch the latest RedBox chick flick, with a box of tissues and a glass of vino. Sometimes, I think, you just have to just get through the bad days and wait it out until the next sunrise.

Circles

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

I returned from my travels abroad in the spring of 2011 with a renewed enthusiasm to immerse myself back into the health and wellness field, both in my career aspirations and for my own personal health reasons. I soon found employment at a local health club (See “BackgroundCheck”) and within the bubble of the fitness center, surrounded by gym junkies, and other “health nuts,” I felt hopeful that I could refill my empty tank through focused attention on my nutrition and fitness.

And yet, despite my growing love and passion for all things wellness-related, I never felt completely convinced that what I was doing to achieve my health and fitness goals was sustainable. I felt desperate – putting faith into fitness and nutrition tips from “Shape” or “Health” magazine. The scale became my god as I religiously weighed-in several times a week, sometimes multiple times a day. And, though I saw what I conceived as weight loss “success” during those initial few months, I was no where near satisfied. I scrutinized my body in the shower and in the mirror and thought, “I must do better.”

At the same time, I was falling into a self-sabotaging cycle. Monday through Friday, I planned my meals, scheduled my exercise, and, frankly, worked my ass off doing what I thought I should be doing to see results at my next weigh-in. But, when the weekend hit, all bets were off. I drank, I binged, I slept. Saturday and Sunday meant coming up for air from the depths of the Certainty Sea, gulping and consuming for 48 hours, before submerging myself back into it's quiet, seemingly more peaceful, routine waters.

Photo Credit: Forty-Second Chance

Monday became my Restart Day. Every week. My frustration with myself and my obvious lack of willpower began to build, higher and higher, until it became as rickety as a Jenga tower. I had this strong sense that my relationship with food and exercise at that point was very precarious. And despite my deep desire to WANT to be loving and kind to my body, I felt as though the weekends were a constant and regular reminder that I was weak and destined for failure. I loathed the extra fat on my body, as it was a tangible reminder to me that I could not control my cravings or my excessive eating. I had an impossible time forgiving myself when I felt I was the only one to blame.

My eating was out of control. So, that spring I tried a 7-day juice fast. No solid food, only juice, for one full week. I had recently watched “Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead” and thought, “Dang, I can do that!” For the first 3-4 days, the liquid cleanse actually felt freeing. I didn't need to fret about eating too much because I literally drank ever single one of my meals. Yet, despite the book's claim to feel energized and practically euphoric at the conclusion of the cleanse, by day 6 & 7, I found myself completely drained, extraordinarily grumpy, and wholly pissed off at the world. At that point, the weight I had “lost” didn't even matter. I couldn't wait to eat - chew something! But, I was determined not to quit, and completed the 7-day juice fast in its entirety. That's the thing about compulsive eaters. We actually have an enormous amount of willpower when we set our minds to something. But, it rarely lasts, especially when extreme diets are involved. I began the 7-day juice fast with the intention of doing something healthy and loving for my body, and I came out with a lesson learned – I started to suspect that my relationship with eating and consuming certain foods was not normal. And that really freaked me out.

At that point, I didn't really know what to do. So, I just reverted back to my weekday ON and weekends OFF cycle for a couple months. Then summer hit. And, with another serge of renewed motivation after a weekend binge, I came up with a brilliant plan. I created my own challenge, my own program for accountability. I set up the “Final 20 Challenge” with a goal to lose 20 lbs in 3 months and reach my ultimate goal of 155lbs. I created a blog, drafted an email to family and friends, and requested their support and participation in my journey. I saw this set up as failproof. As a weight loss coach who outwardly lived and breathed health, fitness, and wellness, it would be a momentous embarrassment to not reach this very attainable goal. Plus, I invited friends and family to sponsor me financially. If I reached my goal, they would pay me the amount they pledged. If I didn't, I would pay them the same amount. And, if they picked a fitness or weight loss goal and achieved it along with me, it would cancel out the pledge, thus being a win-win for both of us.

The Final 20 Challenge blog, posts and pictures are still viewable today. But, it's not a source of major pride for me, even though I did, in fact, end up reaching my goal. The truth was, I didn't get truly serious about the challenge until about 6 weeks prior to the deadline. So, what I had initially intended to be a healthy, gradual weight loss over the course of 12 weeks, turned into a frantic and hugely stressful period of taking my weight loss tactics to even greater extremes. I consumed diet pills, took Epsom salt baths and long saunas, committed to twice daily workouts and even tapered my water intake during the final 2 weeks. These were all “health tips” I learned from friends or found on websites devoted to cutting weight for body builders and/or wrestlers. With three days left before my challenge end date, I hit my goal.

I still remember the shower I took that morning. I was shocked and saddened to notice how my breasts sagged, no longer round and plump for lack of hydration and fat. Seeing “155” on the scale had given me this overwhelming sense of relief when I finally gave myself permission to stop the crazy obsessiveness from continuing to consume me. I had taken my body to an extreme that I knew was a far cry from loving and healthy. I had reached a point of severe desperation, clinging to a challenge and the stress of a deadline to force my body to become what I thought I really wanted; what I thought would make me truly happy. I was seeking fulfillment in something that, in the end, still left me feeling empty and wholly depleted.

I was, slowly but surely, realizing that no amount of food was going to satisfy the hunger I continued to feel. I felt really lost. I was beginning to wonder if this terrifying cycle of self-destruction was an inevitable part of my future. But, even as the thoughts passed through my mind, I couldn't seem to believe that to be true. We are all destined for greatness, in some way, shape or form. That I truly believed. And, with that glimmer of hope, I went looking for the road home.

Photo Credit: Kinja

#freequote

“I shouldn’t have freely and compassionately worked on my spiritual wellness, happiness and health in my late 20s,” said nobody ever.

Quote Credit: Matilda Juliette