Don’t Be Ashamed of Your Story

I didn’t come up with this title on my own. It hit me smack between my eyes first thing this morning as I reviewed my Facebook feed. I thank Kara Louisell for sharing it. Check out her FB page for lots of inspiration. https://www.facebook.com/karalouisell?fref=photo

I shared this image on my own Facebook feed this morning. I’ve made a lot of changes in my life in the past 10 months or so. As a result, I’ve shed a bunch of weight. I’ve run over 350 miles. I’ve learned new ways to deal with sadness. I’ve begun reaching out to others, learning to delegate, and being kinder to myself. I’ve chronicled those changes and shared them here and on my Facebook page along the way.

I’m not normally an attention-seeker. I’m a little bit uncomfortable being in the public eye. I like to work behind he scenes. I’m the person who doesn’t generally strike up a conversation, but I enjoy it immensely once given the opportunity to engage. I’m naturally quick to discount a compliment and I still don’t like the way I look. I’m my own worst critic.

I’ve become one of those annoying people who “checks in” at the gym on Facebook. My nike+ app tells my friends when I start a run and how far I go. I’ve posted pictures *eek* spandex, covered in sweat, painted up, covered in colored powder, and generally having fun while being less than necessarily “proper.”

A long-time friend posted something recently about people who stay the course without need for praise from others as opposed to people who do things half-way and seek applause. I pray that I’m not the person that friend had in mind. I share these changes because many have shared privately that I am inspiring them to change, too.

I am very uncomfortable being anyone’s inspiration. I know how fallible I am. I know how often I stray from my health diet and eat potato chips. I am very aware when I skip a workout to go shopping or watch TV. I’m imperfect. I’m still overweight. I mess up. I don’t FEEL very inspirational.

Perhaps that imperfection – the humanity – is what inspires? I have lost 75 pounds through sheer determination despite going through down spells, having injuries, and just feeling grumpy some days. I’m not a fitness model. I haven’t reached my goal weight. I finish last at most races that I run. My flaws are myriad – but my sincerity is real.

When people started telling me that I INSPIRE them, I wanted to tell them not to be absurd. But, just as I learned to accept a compliment graciously, I’m learning to accept that I have no right to tell another person what (or who) is “good enough” to inspire her.

My story is complicated and colorful. I’ve been through a lot of challenges, and despite it all I’ve managed to carry on. I’ve made decisions that I’m not proud of, but I am proud of where those decisions have brought me. Perhaps that’s why I have been given the gift of being able to inspire others.

I’ve made a decision not to be ashamed of my story. It’s mine to tell – all mine. It’s different from your story. Perhaps it will inspire you to change. Perhaps it will inspire you to block me on Facebook. I just write what I know.

It isn’t all about you

Posted by BecomingBetty

It’s sometimes difficult to look at the big picture. I’ve often been guilty of seeing only how something affects me and not how the same circumstance affects those around me. It’s human nature. I don’t wear the other person’s shoes, so it’s not always easy to know how they feel. At the same time, not knowing what is plaguing others, it’s easy to misinterpret bad moods, scowls and just plain lack of friendliness as a personal assault when it’s quite possible that the person is actually distracted or consumed by events that have absolutely nothing to do with me.

Nearly two decades ago a very wise woman listened to my complaint of the day and said, “Betty, it’s not all about you.” I was taken aback. I felt attacked. I was pouring out my heart to someone who was there to listen, and she had the NERVE to tell me that my pain wasn’t about me. Seconds later, she said, again, “It’s not all about you... and you can be so glad it isn’t.”

I learned all about “Jesus Christ Syndrome” from that wise woman. She told me that I “take on the sins of the world.” I really do tend to blame myself for a lot of things. I say “I’m sorry” a lot. My friend once challenged me to go an entire week without apologizing to anyone for anything (I didn’t make it).

This morning I had a reminder that “it’s not all about me.”

My husband and I go to the gym together. I had a rough start last year. Actually, I had a (couple of) false start(s) last year. I was extremely obese, self conscious, and absolutely sure that everyone would be starting at me at the gym. I invented errands to do on the way to the gym and the errands gave me opportunities to become very upset with my poor husband about something dumb and as a result, I had an excuse to demand that he take me back home without setting foot in the gym.

After two of those incident, I finally made it past the front desk. The staff were smiling and the other members were not staring at me. I had a good time and it soon became a habit. I’ve been going regularly now for about 6 months, and until recently I’ve never had a negative experience. Recently, though, things changed.

There is a male staff member at the gym whose actions today reminded me that it isn’t all about me. I smile a lot and I say good morning to just about everyone. It’s just how I am. This guy never smiles back. Sometimes, when I am walking my warm-up laps around the track, he stands in the middle of the track to watch Fox news. He never smiles. He rarely makes eye contact. He exudes contempt.

I was really very happy this morning. Think about Tigger from Winnie the Pooh, and you’ll get a good idea of how bouncy I was feeling. I was jamming out to Time Warp, Funky Town, and other favorite tunes as I walked around the track when I came upon Mr. Muscles directly in my path. I gave him a big smile and said, “good morning!” He looked right at me, locked eyes for an uncomfortable second or two and said NOTHING.

I checked my clothing for stains. I sniffed to see if I smelled funny. I ran my fingers through my hair, made sure that I was walking the correct direction around the track, checked my shoes for dog poop and concluded that I was okay, but that he either has a problem with women in general or just with fat women. Whatever caused him to stare me down was obviously my fault. I wondered what I did wrong. I finished the workout avoiding all possibility of making eye contact with him. I lost the bounce in my step, and felt my Tigger mood transition to Eeyore.

I finished my workout and dashed down the steps, collected my belongings from the locker room and got in the car. Once we were in the safety of our car, I turned to my husband and asked him if he had noticed the tall blonde staff member wearing the Lifeguard shirt. He said he knew who I was talking to. I told him that I thought I must have irritated him because he wouldn’t even say “Good Morning.” He chuckled and said, “it’s not about you – it’s him.” Darling Hubby, too, had tried to engage Mr. Muscles. He didn’t get as far as I did because Mr. Muscles wouldn’t even make eye contact.

Darling Hubby said, “It’s obvious that guy doesn’t like his job. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t like the members. He doesn’t like the work. He probably won’t be here long.”

I don’t know if Darling Hubby is right on all accounts or not. Mr. Muscles may work at the gym for a long time, but I do think he’s likely correct in stating that Mr. Muscles isn’t a happy guy. It’s not all about me, and I’m so glad it isn’t!

Today was a good reminder that it’s not all about me. Just as nobody else is responsible for my happiness, I’m not likely to single-handedly ruin someone else’s day very often – especially not a stranger.

One key to my happiness is to live my life trying to do the right thing. The words below have often been attributed to Mother Teresa. I don’t know if she actually said them, but I love them.

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

It’s not all about you, and aren’t you glad it isn’t?

Everybody has a story

Posted by BecomingBetty

I’ve never attended a twelve-step meeting, but I’m familiar with the one day at a time concept. I have often used it, or variations (one semester at a time, one month at a time…you get the idea) to deal with difficult or stressful events. I got through law school 16 weeks at a time. I told myself that I could do anything for 16 weeks, and having resolved to do so, I finished on schedule.

I started making some big changes in my life in March. There was no plan. I was afraid that I was going to die. I had a couple of scary medical events. I was hypertensive, morbidly obese, and full of excuses. With a thyroid disorder, a busted up leg, severe arthritis, COPD and likely close to type II diabetes, I was a mess and convinced that my sedentary lifestyle and obesity were beyond my control.

One day in February I was in a meeting in my conference room and the room began to get black around the edges while a ringing in my ears got louder and louder. I didn’t pass out. The event passed and I lived in far that it might repeat itself. Soon thereafter, I was walking through the grocery store with my husband when I broke into a cold sweat. I could feel my heart beating, and I couldn’t wait to get back home to crawl into bed and see if I lived until morning.

This pattern repeated itself a few times over the course of a few weeks. I did not seek medical attention because I was convinced that my physician would scold me about my weight. I had a gym membership that had been unused for at least 9 months. Several times I got dressed for the gym only to have a panic attack on the way there and scream at my husband until he drove me back home. I was convinced people would stare. I was convinced people would laugh. I was convinced that people would find me disgusting – and tell me so.

One day, I hit rock bottom. My health was scaring me. I was short-tempered, my family was bewildered, and I was depressed. I went to the doctor. He added a prescription for an anti-depressant to my list of meds and told me I needed to lose weight. I said I would (like I had each time I saw him over the many years before), and scheduled my follow up visit.

The next day, I decided it was time to “get busy living, or get busy dying.” I dusted off the treadmill (we won’t talk about the thickness of the dust layer) and took a step. I don’t remember how long it took me, but I walked a mile that first day. I went back the next day and tried jogging a little bit. I was thrilled when I was able to “sprint” 2.5 mph for 30 seconds. Day after day, I went back to the treadmill, and was amazed at the difference those 20, 30 or 40 minutes made in my attitude.

I began to share those little successes with my facebook friends. I found a iPhone app that tracked my runs. My feet starting hurting, and I asked my facebook friends to help me pick out a pair of running shoes. I received scores of comments and suggestions from runners and walkers who are scattered all over the country. Boosted by their well wishes, and filled with a sense that this time would be different, I entered a running store and plunked down $120 for my first pair of running shoes. On that day I posted a photo of my new kicks and decided “I am a runner.”

Having found the confidence to walk into a store for athletes without being met with scorn or laughter, I resolved to try the gym again. Armed with my new shoes, I made it through the door and through a circuit without anyone laughing, pointing, or (to my knowledge) posting a picture of my backside to their flickr account.

I have a hugely supportive circle of family and friends. They have “liked” and commented on my runs (which makes my phone cheer), they have put up with me posting photos of myself in spandex, shining with sweat and holding up a medal. I began posting for accountability’s sake, and along the way I have received many messages telling me to keep posting because I have inspired my friends to make changes in their own lives.

As I share my story, those friends keep telling me to write a book. I love the idea, but didn’t know where to begin. I finally know where the book is coming from. I am a survivor. I am a fighter. I am a listener. I am changing my life one day at a time, one step at a time, and one mile at a time.

My name is Betty. This is my story. It’s still being played out. I want to help you become the person you were meant to be. I can’t tell you how to do it, but I can tell you how I’m going about it, and perhaps you will find inspiration to do the same.

Every story has to have a beginning. You may see parts of mine in flashback, but for now, we’ll start here: “Once upon a time there was an unhappy woman who was scared of life. She was sick, and tired, and didn’t know where to turn. This is the story of how she took her life back.”

Looking Backward (and Finding Motivation)

Posted by BecomingBetty

Looking backward in life can be dangerous. It can lead to revisiting past hurts and disappointments, it can lead to sadness over lost opportunities. It can be a very negative experience. However, looking backward can also be a tool for measuring success.

I’ve spent 2014 making some very large changes in my life. This is the year that I finally grabbed the tiger by the tail and got serious about making my health a priority. With at least 167 pounds to lose, getting healthy is no small proposition. I’d spent many years as an obese or morbidly obese individual. I have health conditions that make it more difficult to lose weight. I’d convinced myself that because I wasn’t yet diabetic and my blood pressure was only marginally high, I was “healthy fat.”

I’ve lost (and regained) over 100 pounds twice before in my life. Looking back, I’m convinced that things really are going to be different this time, and the key is that I have a completely different mindset. This time, rather than viewing the changes I must make as temporary measures necessary to effect a change, I am changing my lifestyle for good.

I’ve lost 70 pounds through a combination of diet and exercise. I don’t follow a prescribed diet. I have completely eliminated certain foods because they actually make me ill, and not because a book says I have to eliminate them to lose weight. I have incorporated regular exercise, I log every mouthful of food, and I weigh myself 1-2 times per month.

Getting to this milestone has taken seven months. Historically, this is the time in the process where I have started backsliding – and ultimately failing in my efforts to get healthy.

I will admit that I came close to throwing in the towel after an injury set me back. I went a week with little exercise. Instead of finding an alternative, I found excuses. Fortunately, a post came across my Facebook feed that reminded me that the key to success is often looking at the progress you have made instead of the distance left to travel.

I am a firm believer that life should be lived looking forward instead of back, but I now realize that there are times for reflection. As a result, I did an exercise that I should have done at the outset of this journey: I made a list of all of the things that my prior weight prevented. I wanted to be able to:

Get off the floor without help
Ride a roller coaster
Fasten the seat belt in my husband’s old corvette without help
Cross my legs
Climb the stairs without being out of breath
Put on a pair of pantyhose without a struggle
Sit in a restaurant booth without a struggle
Fit into an airplane seat and not have to worry about “overlap” or a seatbelt extension
Sit in a seat in the auditorium at my kids’ school without having to hold my breath

Now, even though I am only 42% to my “goal weight,” I have managed to accomplish every single one of those things. Additionally, I have run a 5k race and a 10k race. I have lost 4 jeans sizes. I am off my blood pressure medicine. I am mostly pain free. I have achieved things I did not think were possible for me.

Today, I’m crafting a new “bucket list” for the second half of this journey. Before I am finished, I will:

Ride the roller coaster I couldn’t fit on this summer (the one with the smaller seat belts)
Run a half marathon (I’m already registered)
Do a push up
Do a pull up
Shop in a store that doesn’t specialize in “plus sizes”
Go on a challenging hike

The number on the scale has ceased to be my primary motivation. If it was the only thing motivating me, I would have given up when it spent a month parked at the same spot. I now realize it is only one way of marking progress. When I look at the monumental task of losing 167 pounds, it is far too easy to discount the progress I have made. Seventy pounds is a lot of weight, but when you view it next to 167, it doesn’t seem like I’ve made much progress.

When I look back, though, at the pictures I took at my top weight, and when I try on the once-tight pants that now fall off and pool around my ankles, it puts things into a different perspective. When I cross my legs, fasten my seat belt and sit on any chair without worrying about whether it will hold me, I see how my life has changed.

I would encourage anyone who is embarking on a weight loss or fitness journey to make her own bucket list. Take pictures and measurements, too. There will be times when the scale isn’t budging, or you are tired and sore and hungry and you need to remind yourself where you were and how far you’ve come.

I started my journey without a road map. I managed to pass a few landmarks that I would have celebrated had I known where I was headed.

Serendipity – God’s appointments

Posted by BecomingBetty

I wanted to write this post yesterday, but I was having a “first world problem.” I am writing this on a brand new (to me) computer that my oldest son configured for me right before he left the house without giving me the password. He knows most of my “usual” passwords, and I thought I had tried them all. I texted him, and I called him, and after no answer, I gave up and I enjoyed my evening. This morning when he told me the actual password, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t tried it. It was so obvious (knowing me).

I dubbed yesterday “self-care Saturday.” The planned activities centered around taking care of myself. I planned time in my “zen den” drinking a pot of tea (check). I planned coffee time with my dear husband (check). I planned a workout at the gym (check), I planned a haircut (nope) and the big daddy… I planned a 5-mile run.

It was far too beautiful to run indoors on the treadmill. The high school stadium was in use all day and all evening, so that was out of the question. I decided to run through the beautiful neighborhoods in my quaint home town. Although I have lived here for 15 years, there is so much that I haven’t seen because I am a creature of habit.

I ran to my office where my husband was mowing the lawn and re-hydrated. I ran through all of the roads in the Lagoons, and ran along the beach where my shoes promptly filled with sand. I found a conveniently-located bench and removed my shoes to shake out the sand, sat to enjoy the view, and decided to run a neighborhood I had never explored. I didn’t mean to spend 1.5 miles there, but I did, and after another run across the sand (and another stop at another bench to shake out the sand and enjoy the waves), I headed back for my office for more water (and a bag of jelly belly sport beans) and headed toward home.

Knowing I was later than I was expected home already, I called my husband and let him know where I was and what route I was taking home. I’m not sure why I did that, because I usually like to plan my route on the fly depending on how I am feeling. On my way back, I briefly thought about taking Exchange Street instead of Douglas Street like I had planned. I kept running past Exchange, and as I turned South onto Decatur, a car pulled up to the stop sign, and the driver called out, “Excuse me, is your name Betty?”

I turned and answered “yes,” and proceeded to have a conversation with the driver, who knew me from this blog. She’s a darling woman who has touched so many lives herself, and I was blessed with the opportunity to meet her face to face because I explored a new neighborhood, added 1.5 miles to my route, and followed the route I told my husband I would follow home. Now that we have met, I hope to hear more of her story.

I was walking (jogging) on a cloud the next leg of the journey. As I passed by the high school, I was flagged down by another person (this one on foot). She said, “I have seen you all over town today, and I just have to meet you.” She was looking for the 6th grade football game (it turns out she was in the wrong place for it). We had a wonderful conversation for 5-10 minutes. She told me about some of the obstacles she has had to overcome and I shared some of my story. When we parted ways, I felt that I had made yet another new friend.

I reached home and my husband was hard at work cutting up a huge tree limb (actually bigger than many trees) that fell down a short while back. I decided to blog about my experience, but it was not to be, so I spent some more time in my “fortress of peace,” my “zen den,” and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

I awoke to the sound of a high school marching band (the Festival of Bands was starting just a block away), and went out to tell dear husband that he didn’t have to cut the whole tree up in one day. I persuaded him to join me in the hot tub to listen to the bands, and I told him about the wonderful day that I had, the chance meetings, the new friends, and the experience of serendipity that made it all so special. If I had to define serendipity, I would deem it “a happy coincidence.” When my life is moving in the right direction, though, it seems these happy coincidences happen with such frequency that they don’t seem coincidental at all. I often end up learning valuable lessons from the people I meet when serendipity takes over.

In order for these meetings to happen, I had to deviate from my planned 5 mile run and run 7 miles. I had to get sand in my shoes (twice) and take time to enjoy the beautiful beach (twice). I had to run the direction that I had told my husband I would run instead of turning a block earlier like I decided I wanted to.

As I concluded the paragraph above, I received a beautiful message on Facebook from the woman I met on Douglas Street. It seems that she would not normally have been there at that time, either. She, too, remarked on the serendipity of the moment. She shared that a friend of hers calls these moments “God’s appointments.” I think she is right. We were destined to meet, and I look forward to getting to know her. Had I known the password to this machine and blogged this yesterday when I intended to, I would have done so without the benefit of knowing how truly serendipitous my meeting was yesterday.

This blog started out as a way to “just write what [I] know” because I truly enjoy writing. The fact that even one other person has found it a blessing makes me truly grateful for the ability to write. I’m off, now, to a local festival where I hope I will have the opportunity to listen when I am led, and to keep more of God’s appointments. Serendipity is the word for today.

It’s a journey, not a destination

Posted by BecomingBetty

I’ve been neglecting this blog for a while. I’ve had a few “when life hands you lemons” moments, and seemed to have lost my recipe for lemonade at the time when I needed it most. Yesterday one of those moments happened, and I was reminded that although we have no control over many of the things that happen to us, how we react to them is 100% within our control. I’m sad to say that I didn’t react to some of those things the way that I wish I would have, but I learned a powerful lesson.

Whatever the goal, be it fitness, happiness, or health – it is a journey, not a destination. If you think that you can achieve any of those without continuing to work at it, you’ve lost the battle.

Those of you who know me in real life know that weight has been a lifelong struggle. I’ve gained and lost hundreds of pounds over the last 30 years. Each time, I looked at the weight loss as a project, thinking that once I reached my destination I would be free and happy and the problems that got me to an unhealthy weight would miraculously be cured and I wouldn’t have to struggle.

This past March, I reached a crisis point in my life. Some of the stressors were within my control, but many were not. My health was bad. My mood was depressed. My life seemed to be spinning madly out of control. I was not fit, healthy or happy. In desperation, I turned to diet and exercise because those were two things that I could control. By taking control of what I could control, I was able to better deal with the aspects of my life that were beyond my control. I had an outlet for that stress and negativity. This time, instead of dieting, I am focusing on remaking my life. I know that to be happy and healthy, I must fuel my body with healthy foods and get plenty of exercise. This isn’t a “fix,” it is a journey that will never end. If it ends, the trip is back to an unhappy, unhealthy place.

I have spent part of this journey sharing my story with others through Facebook and on this blog. Sharing keeps me accountable, but I hope that it also shows others that depression, obesity, arthritis, auto-immune disease and a host of other problems are not insurmountable. My journey began when someone else shared their journey and I was inspired to make a change.

On the days when I put in the work (eating clean, exercising, practicing thankfulness and being kind), I enjoy happiness. I enjoy the benefits of increased health and stamina. On the days when I slip back into my old habits and cure hurt feelings with potato chips and lash out at the person who I perceive hurt me, I wallow in pain. The emotional pain becomes physical pain as my body becomes inflamed and my joints hurt, which makes me put off exercise, and throws my whole system into a mess.

I cannot claim that happiness is merely a choice for everyone. Some people are suffering so much that telling them to “choose to be happy,” minimizes their pain. I do not want to do that. For me, though, happiness began with a choice, and it depends on me making the right choice every time I am confronted by something that makes me want to crawl back into the hole that I created for myself.

Fitness is a journey (one that I’m enjoying more and more as I progress). Happiness is a journey (one that is becoming easier day by day). Some days the journey seems solitary. Other days I am surrounded by people who inspire my every step. I am not content to just keep doing what I am doing. I want to be fitter, happier and healthier than I am today. I am doing this for myself, but if I can inspire others by sharing what I learn that is a bonus.

I am learning to reach out and reconnect with others. The journey does not have to be solitary (and it’s much more fun when there are companions!

We all need goals, but they are mere milestones on our journey. When we reach one, there must be another to look for or we will lose our way. The journey never ends. Thank you for joining me on this step of the way.

Take the [Lunch] Bucket Challenge!

Posted by BecomingBetty

I was thrilled recently to learn that the Vermilion, Ohio chapter of the Salvation Army will be launching a backpack program for students in January of 2015. For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, a backpack program supplies children from households that are food insecure (not enough money to ensure enough food is in the house) with a backpack that is filled with food items for the child to consume on the weekend when there are no school lunches and breakfasts.

Second Harvest Food Bank partners with several local charities that sponsor backpack programs in other nearby school systems. A donation to Second Harvest or to Vermilion Salvation Army for the backpack program is a great way to get this project started.

The Ice Bucket Challenge has gotten a lot of press lately. Thousands of people have taken the challenge to either donate to a charity that funds ALS research or to douse themselves with a bucket of ice water (or both!) Whether you think the idea is ingenious or lame, there’s no question that the challenge has raised millions for ALS charities and raised awareness of the illness and its challenges.

September is Hunger Action Month. I’ve turned my Facebook Profile orange for hunger awareness. Those of you who know me already are aware that fighting hunger is an issue that is important to me – especially as it relates to children who are hungry.

For the month of September, I’m starting the Lunch Bucket Challenge. I will not eat at restaurants / fast food for the month of September. Instead, I will eat lunch at home or pack it in my lunch container and donate the savings to a local hunger program at the end of the month. Each day I will photograph my lunch and ask others to join me in this challenge.

Wednesday September 3, 2014

Seasoned grilled chicken with strawberries, blueberries, mushrooms, sliced almonds and honeyed goat cheese on a bed of romaine lettuce with a blush raspberry vinaigrette dressing (prepared and consumed at home).

I will be posting details shortly about a second fundraising initiative for hunger. Please check back for details!

Because I’m Happy! (How a rock on a bench can make the whole day brighter)

Posted by BecomingBetty

This little blog of mine has brought me a lot of happiness in the past week or so. It has given me an opportunity to share my thoughts with people I’ve never met. In doing so, I hope that I’ve brought some relevant information, some insight, or some HAPPINESS to someone who I’ve never had the opportunity to touch before.

Today I had a court hearing in a nearby town. Although my role in the proceedings went smoothly, my client was noticeably upset. This is not a happy time for her. I decided to take the scenic route back to my office. As I looked out over Lake Erie, I immediately felt calmer – happier.

My computer was applying updates when I return to the office, so I looked at Facebook on my phone. There, I saw the prettiest little stones. My friend Sue found these on a bench at the beach and she shared them on Facebook. I’ve been thinking a lot this week about how our words and actions affect others. I’ve been reminding myself to LISTEN. I’m trying to remember to SPEAK KINDLY. There on my screen were two little stones painted by an unknown giver reminding me to do just that.

I immediately sent Sue a message and asked if I could share her photo. She sent me that one and two more.The email subject was “Because I’m Happy!! Stones.” Sue’s happiness was contagious. I haven’t talked to Sue since I left an organization we were in together. I thanked her and let her know I’ve been down this week. We resolve to try to fit a lunch into our busy schedules soon.

When I opened the files, I was excited to be able to read the note that was loving placed with the stones.

Been thinking of someone lately?

Of course you have!

Don’t forget #1

YOU!

Please take a rock, they are free!

Use them to brighten your or someone else’s day!

Remember smile brightly.

Love freely.

Pay it forward.

❤ Me

One of the advantages of being self-employed is the fact that I can abandon the office in the middle of the day for a few minutes. I declared it “break time” and grabbed Jimi the Wonderdog. He brought me my leash (that’s another post) and to the beach we went to see if the stones were still there. I really hoped they were. We walked from the office to the beach in the beautiful sun and found the stones just where Sue said they would be. As we admired the collection, a lady walked up beside us and we struck up a conversation. Today was her little girl’s first day in Kindergarten. I asked where and we had a nice chat about the Montessori program she’s attending. I know of it, and I’m sure she’s going to love it! She chose a cute little turtle for her little girl, and she chose one for herself that had special meaning. We talked about why it was meaningful to her. The conversation turned to hospice care, and we discussed a hospice center we had both visited. We talked about the beauty and hope that we were both surprised to find in a facility for people who are facing death. She gave Jimi the Wonderdog some attention because she was grieving the loss of her pet. (Jimi was more than happy to oblige with some doodle love).

I had a hard time deciding whether to take the rock that said “Listen,” or the one that said “Speak Kindly.” I reached for “Listen,” and my new friend said, “That one is perfect. You know how to listen.”

Another friend I hadn’t seen for a while was the next to arrive. We talked about the stones, and life, and Jimi the Wonderdog. She gave him a bowl of water (it was hot!) and I enjoyed our chat. As I turned to walk away, I was pulled back to the bench (by the stones – not by Jimi – he is well-behaved for the most part).

There, the stone that said “Joy” called out to me. I hope the unknown artist will not mind that I helped myself to two rocks instead of one. “Joy” joined “Listen” in my pocket. We took a last look at the beach and waved goodbye to my friends.

Jimi and I walked back to the office, drank a whole bunch of water (like I said, it’s HOT!), and I set about putting words on a screen to share these cute little rocks and their message of joy with all of you.

So, my friends, be kind to yourselves. Don’t be afraid to talk to strangers. Pet someone’s dog (but ask permission first). Listen. Speak kindly. Love freely.

Thank you, joyful artist, whoever you may be. Today you touched my life in so many ways. Because you cared enough to paint some stones and arrange them on a bench by the water, my life was changed. Today I reached out to a friend I hadn’t talked to. I took a walk in the sunshine (with Jimi the Wonderdog). I met a new friend. I had a great conversation with another friend. I drank lots of water. I walked 6,000 steps.

Joyful artist, thank you for your gift. I don’t know yet how I will pay it forward, but I will begin by sharing your enthusiasm. May it inspire many others as it inspired me.

If you hurry to Main Street Beach in Vermilion, the rocks are on the bench on the left side of the platform. While you’re there, visit the Little Free Library, buy a cold drink from the volunteers at the Shore Thing stand (tell them I sent you), and enjoy all that life has to offer.

That’s how a little rock can made the whole day brighter.

You’re the inspiration

Posted by BecomingBetty

I began my fitness journey on March 9, 2014. I’ve done the “diet thing” many times before. As a 47 year old adult female who has been overweight for most of her life, I have mastered the art of the excuse. I can justify nearly any unhealthy food or activity. I can procrastinate with the best of them, and the person it has harmed the most is me.

This time, it is different. My husband says he, too, can sense that this time, it is different. This time, it is about changing my life, and not just about doing what I need to do to make the numbers on the scale come down.

The difference, this time, is inspiration. With Robin Williams’ tragic death in the media this week, I will share that depression played a major role in this change. I was struggling with some issues that had me feeling awfully bleak. I was still struggling with my father’s death in early 2013. I was struggling with feelings of inadequacy as a partner, a mother, and a lawyer. I looked in the mirror and struggled with the signs of age and bad health. I was tired of the struggle. I was so unhappy that I lost sight of the many things that make my life so beautiful.

A series of coincidences, or perhaps providence, led me to step on the treadmill instead of eating a package of gluten free cookies or a chocolate bar. I have a group of people in my life who I refer to as my “invisible friends.” Some are ladies I met on or through an online “mom” forum I was active in for many years. Others are people who I met through DDP Yoga forums, or other lawyers I reached out to on Facebook. These people have played an important role in my journey.

When I posted in a “secret group” on Facebook that I was feeling very depressed, a mom suggested I join “Moms Run This Town.” I poo-poo’ed the idea. I never envisioned myself a runner. Soon, another invisible friend suggested we train online together for a 5k. Running took over my facebook feed as friends, both in real life and my “invisible” network, began sharing running posts.

One night, hurt, angry and sad, I brushed off the thick layer of dust that had settled on the treadmill, and I took that first step. I came back the next night, and the next. As is typically the case, life began to get in the way. One night as I was browsing Facebook instead of getting some exercise, I saw a conversation between two “invisible friends.” One asked the other how to ensure success at getting in shape. His response was a photo that said, “Commit.”

I found my inspiration in that graphic. I think of it daily. To succeed at something – anything, you must commit to succeeding. I found inspiration in the “cheers” that my running app sent my way when my friends “liked” my status that said I was on a run. Each cheer inspired me to take another step – to go another 1/10th mile.

I wasn’t sure how my friends would react. I worried that I would annoy them with my fitness posts. I kept posting anyway.

Soon, I began receiving messages. “I wanted you to know that you inspired me to get back to the gym.” “You inspired me to get moving.” “Thank you for sharing your journey. I wanted you to know that I joined a gym.”

I thanked each of them for reaching out, but on the inside, I was saying, “I’m not an inspiration. I’m a morbidly obese person whose bad decisions led to this state.” “I’m not worthy of being your inspiration.”

I started to craft a response that said I’m not someone to emulate- that I have too many weaknesses, I’m too flawed…” At that moment, I realized that inspiration is a very individual, personal experience. What right do I have to say that I’m not an inspiration? If someone can find inspiration in my words, my actions, or my photos, what right do I have to tell them they are wrong? In that moment I simply thanked God for the opportunity to inspire others.

I don’t write to inspire. I write because I really enjoy writing. If, however, it inspires you to look at a sunset, to buy a coffee for someone, to run a half marathon, to clean out your closet, or to bake a gluten free cake, that is a gift to me.

Find inspiration everywhere. The world is an awesome place. If someone inspires you, let them know. Don’t be afraid to share your accomplishments, no matter how insignificant you may feel they are, because someone somewhere may fin the inspiration to improve themselves through your example.

Every single day, you inspire someone to feel happy, or sad, or angry through your words and actions. Being mindful of that fact, choose to inspire others with love and kindness, with your positive energy and your lust for life.

You’re the inspiration.

Over the hill

Posted by BecomingBetty

I live on the south shore of Lake Erie. I’ve been in this town for 15 years, and I’m ashamed to say that I’ve never really explored it. I’ve lived here, but I’ve never really LIVED here before.

I started running in March. I use the term “running” loosely, as there is not a category for the pace I run at on My Fitness Pal or SparkPeople. When I told my doctor I had started running, I started to discredit it, saying, “I guess it’s more like slow jogging…” He stopped me and said, “Betty, if you’re not walking, you’re RUNNING.” I like his definition, and it’s the one I use when someone asks me if I’m “really” running.

I started on my treadmill. I could only run 1/10th mile before I had to walk, but I fought for those first miles. I soon progressed to the high school track, the parking lot at an Amusement Park, and a wooded trail at a MetroPark. All were very level.

Several weeks ago, I noticed a trail winding through a city park on the lake. I resolved to check it out. Last night was perfect. It was in the low 70s, with a beautiful breeze coming in off the lake. I ran the loop closest to the parking lot, and then stopped – there was a hill – and I needed to go down it.

I have injured myself in two falls in the last 20 years. The last fall resulted in 4 breaks, a plate and a whole bunch of screws in my left ankle. That hardware has been my excuse for not doing anything about my weight for almost a decade. At any rate, I am deathly afraid of falling down. The last time I fell down (I slipped on a wet spot on the deck), I wasn’t even hurt, but I screamed and cried like a baby because I was sure I was injured. Falling is bad.

I took little teeny tiny steps down the hill and got to the next level stretch, congratulating myself for not dying. Soon, though, I was faced with the fact that where there is a “down” hill, there is sure to be an “up” hill that follows. I trudged up the hill (okay, it was just a bank, but it was a BIG bank) and continued on my way.

The trail continued to wind through the park, over a bridge and sure enough – another hill. This one led to a path along the road. I froze. Roads mean cars, and where there are cars, there are people who might shout mean things at me out the window. (yes, it has happened to me). I considered turning around and going back the way I came, but curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to see where the trail ran.

I took a deep breath, and “ran” the hill the best I could. I was over the hill! I got to the top and ran the handful of yards along the road to the next “down” hill. There were cars. Their drivers did not honk the horns or shout at me. It was okay.

I proceeded along the path around trees, along the lake, and looked up. A dozen buzzards were trailing me. They sensed weakness. They circled. I ran some more. I looked up. Still there. The buzzards knew I was a goner. Obviously, they sensed my history with falls, and they were waiting.

I shook my fists at the feathered hecklers. If the cars on the highway couldn’t stop me, neither could a bunch of feathered carrion-eaters. I laughed. I charged down the next hill. I felt the blister form on my right big toe. I laughed some more.

I managed to make it around the trail 3 times. By the last lap, the hills were no longer something to be feared. The buzzards didn’t get me. I was sweaty, happy, and as I reached the end of the path, I was treated to the most glorious view of the sun descending toward the horizon…and the buzzards were still circling.

Like me, the sun was proudly going over the hill. Life is good.