Healing

This was a difficult post to write and a delicate subject for me to discuss. Mental health issues are something often kept quiet in our society, a source of shame. I'm not ashamed of having struggled, or of continuing to struggle and fight a mental battle, but this is something I haven't really discussed with anyone beyond my immediate family. There really aren't many specific moments that one can point to in their life and say "that's when my life took a turn" and the ones that you can point to, like this one, have a definite clarity and will forever be etched in your memory.

I was dressed in my concert black and white, waiting in the band room to load the buses for All County Band festival in tenth grade when the secretary came over the intercom. This was the first time in high school that I got called to the principal's office. Of course I got the required "Oooooh, someone's in trouble!" from everyone in class, but I was really confused because I was sure I hadn't done anything wrong. I went to a campus style high school so it took me few minutes to get from the band room to the office, very long minutes spent searching my brain for the possible cause of this meeting, stomach in knots.

When I finally got to the principal's office he looked very serious and asked me to sit down. That's when I noticed that he had one of my English assignments on his desk, my poetry packet. The dreaded 10th grade poetry packet. I don't remember exactly how many we had to write, but we spent the whole unit learning about every kind of poem from acrostic to sonnet and then had to pick several different kinds and write our own. Any topics we wanted, put together how ever we wanted. Writing being one of my strongest skills, this assignment was right in my wheel house and I remember handwriting all my poems and illustrating each page. I was very proud of my work and it was very personal. I had poured my heart and soul into those poems. I couldn't fathom what would have caused my teacher to have given my assignment to the principal.

As he started to talk to me about what I had put together and we went through the poems, the reason for his concern became obvious. He was worried about me. Almost every single poem I had written and even my illustrations were very dark and pretty much all about death and despair and misery. Being lonely and isolated. I even had a pretty stellar sonnet about having no friends, in impeccable iambic pentameter. I guess I hadn't consciously intended for that to be the overwhelming theme of my project, but as I was writing unfiltered, from the heart, what was on my soul, it shouldn't really have been a surprise that this was the result.

The principal knew me pretty well as he had also been my principal in middle school, a rare example of an administrator who truly cared about all the students in his school and knew most, if not all of them, by name. I think the thing that concerned him most was one particular poem that I wrote about a homeless girl living in an alley, contemplating the prospect of death over life. This was a classic red flag to him. That's when I really realized why I was called to the office. He was worried that I was suicidal. That's when I started to cry. Uncontrollably.

I felt scared, and ashamed, and panicked, even betrayed by my teacher. These were my private, honest thoughts, that I had only put down on paper with the intent of writing the best poems I possibly could, and now they were being used against me. They got me in trouble. The principal thought I wanted to kill myself, and that was not the case at all. Looking back now, I don't honestly think I would consider myself to have been suicidal when I was in high school. I had been bullied for the last 5 years, tormented, called names, been punched in the stomach, pushed in the mud, pelted by rocks on the way home from school, was excluded from groups in class, not invited to birthday parties and sleepovers, had my student government campaign posters vandalized, I sat the bench for about 95% of all my softball games. I was lonely, and isolated, and in pain. I felt like no one liked me and no one cared about me. I had gone to teachers before about bullying and teasing and none of them ever did anything.

I never wanted to kill myself, never tried to kill myself, never thought about or planned ways that I would kill myself. Death was, and still is, my biggest fear. I didn't want to die, but I did want the pain to stop. I didn't want to have to continue to live through that torment every day. I thought about what would happen if I died. I wondered if anyone would care. I thought about death, a lot. Obviously enough to write a whole slew of poems about it. As an adult with about 16 years worth of perspective on this now, I realize that I was subconsciously crying out for help. Demanding that someone care about me. Begging them to do something, anything, to make it all stop.

I was really angry about this situation for a long time, and vowed that I was never going to write anything personal again. I had a rough few weeks following this meeting with the principal and cried a lot with my parents, who were justifiably upset and concerned as well. For all intents and purposes, I was basically on suicide watch. My Mom told me she was afraid to leave me alone, they couldn't trust me and I couldn't convince them that I didn't want to hurt myself, I just wanted to stop hurting.

The good thing about this seemingly horrible period in my life, is that it actually did help things get better, and for that I am grateful to the teacher and to the principal. I was finally able to see that I did have people in my life that loved me and cared about me. My parents had always told me that no matter what happened out in the world, home was always my safe place to land, I would always be loved by my family. This situation helped me understand how true that was. I was safe inside my house. I was protected from all the bad things that happened at school. I can't imagine how different the situation would be if I were to go through the same torment as a high schooler now, with the added hell of cyber bullying. For many kids there is absolutely no escape from the torment and their bullies can follow them home and continue to beat them down over the internet. I realize now how lucky I was that I only had to face bullies in person.

I called this post "healing" because from that moment forward, that was the journey that began. School got marginally better and I made a few close friends, but I was stronger and didn't let the things that had happened in the past weigh me down as much as I had before. I didn't think about dying as much anymore, especially after I lost my friend Josh the next year. Up until that point death was an abstract concept; losing Josh made it real. I began to cherish life and hang on to the good parts and not dwell so much on the bad, because I realized how quickly it can be taken away. I decided that making the most of the good moments and worrying about the people that love and care about you is much more worthwhile than being focused on the bad and thinking about death all the time.

As I continue through life, I can look back on this time and remember that no matter how bad it gets or how alone I feel, I always have my family and I know that they love and support me, so I'm never really alone. One reason I thought it was important to write this post was so that it might help someone else heal from these kinds of wounds. If I could go back, this is the kind of thing I would want middle school Ginny to hear. I know there are kids that are going through similar experiences now. I would tell them to keep asking for help until they are heard and find someone that cares enough to listen. They don't have to feel hopeless and alone. I would tell them to stay strong and focus on the people that do love them, because it really does get better. Acknowledging that you were hurt and being honest about how you feel are the first steps to healing, and that is a journey that I'm still on to this day. Hopefully the worst is behind me and this is another big step towards being a happier me.

You vs. You

A Very Squinty Me and Elisabeth

So I was talking with Elisabeth Akinwale the other day (she casually drops into the conversation as if hanging out and chatting with a top 10 CrossFit Games competitor and all around badass weightlifter is an everyday occurrence in her life). Last weekend I was fortunate to have the opportunity to travel to Fort Mill, SC to participate in the MuscleDriver USA Open team tryouts - an Olympic Weightlifting team that Elisabeth is a member of, in addition to being a CrossFit Games competitor. I had no delusion that I would be considered for the team, I've only been lifting competitively for 5 months, but the opportunity to compete with someone like Elisabeth in front of people like Glenn Pendlay and Don McCauley, and get coached by an athlete like Travis Mash, was something I had to take advantage of and do so to the best of my ability.  Other than the fact that she's totally cool and easy to talk to, I took away some key things from the hour or so that we spent talking about everything from CrossFit scandals to kids and what we studied in college.

1. CrossFit (of which weightlifting is one component) is the sport of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Elisabeth finished 7th in the games last year out of thousands of people worldwide. She's a pretty big deal and can do amazing things, but at the end of the day she's just a normal girl with a little boy at home. One of the cooler things about CrossFit is how accessible the elite level athletes are to the everyday lower level athletes like myself. That someone who's only been training for a year can feel a camaraderie with an athlete of the highest caliber in the sport and have the instant connection of knowing that we've had similar experiences. That I was even listed on the same competition roster as her was pretty cool to me.  I can't imagine that as a high school football player, for example, I would ever get the chance to play a game against an NFL team and then just hang out with the star quarterback afterward. There's a line between the elite and the beginner in most sports that just isn't as dark and foreboding in CrossFit as it is in other sports, at least it isn't for me.

2. In the same vein of elite level athletes being real people, it's easy to forget when we put these athletes up on their pedestals that they are just as vulnerable as the rest of us. They are hard on themselves about their performances and feel pressure to perform, much more in most cases. Elisabeth didn't have the pressure of trying to make the team or impress the coaches, she was already on the team, but even as basically an exhibition performance she had the pressure to perform well. Her name alone drew crowds of people to watch her pick up heavy things and put them down - me included. Knowing the total that she submitted, people expected her to put on a good show, and though I'd only just met her that morning, I could tell that she didn't want to let these people down.

If you think about the competition as a You vs. Everyone Else situation, Elisabeth did really well. She came in 3rd out of 10 competitors. In Olympic weightlifting you get three chances to lift the heaviest weight you can on two lifts, the snatch and the clean & jerk. You only have to hit one of each to get a total score - your best snatch + your best clean & jerk. Elisabeth did just that, hitting only one of her snatch attempts and one of  her clean & jerks. Her total was still 86 points higher than mine. In terms of Elisabeth vs. Elisabeth though,  this wasn't her best performance and she clearly wasn't happy with it.

By the same comparison, my meet in terms of Me vs. Everyone Else was not so stellar. I really couldn't have asked for a better meet though. For the first time in 3 official competitions I hit all 6 of my lifts (and was the only female to do so), I got competitions PRs on both my snatch and clean & jerk, and I totaled 101 - which was 4 points higher than my total at the RVA Open, 10 points higher than Baltimore, and my first time to total over 100. It was the best I've ever done in competition and given the fact that I haven't been 100% healthy in the last few weeks, I feel it was the best I could do on that day. Going into the competition I had the lowest submitted total, was by far the heaviest lifter, and I ended up in 9th place out of 10, only ahead of someone who failed to total. I was also probably one of the least experienced lifters. If I only looked at my performance in comparison with others, my absolute best wasn't good enough to win and I was the one that should have been embarrassed and upset. (Not to say that anyone should have been upset or embarrassed, just that coming in 9th might be a better reason than coming in 3rd.)

My Best Snatch - 45kg

My Best Clean & Jerk - 56kg

I choose to focus on Me vs. Me instead because I feel it's the best true measure of my personal success. Maybe someday down the road I'll be in competitions to win them and will have to compare myself to the other lifters, but right now competing is just about beating myself at the last meet, and I wiped the floor with Ginny from the RVA Open. Getting to talk with Elisabeth really put this into perspective for me. It's easy to pick the outlook that gives you the best result, to spin things in such as way that puts you in the best light, but you won't always see things the same way if you're not looking from the same angle each time. You can win competitions and not give your best performance, or  you can do your best and still lose. Either way, if you always compare current you to previous you, the only factor you can control, I think that's the best path to true growth and keeping yourself grounded.

This experience showed me that not being satisfied with anything but your best is what drives people to strive for greatness. To feel accomplished and deserving of the accolades when you reach greatness - knowing that you worked hard and did the best you could do, regardless of the outcome.

Strength

Something that I guess I've known but re-realized in the last few weeks is that the me that I show the world is not the same one that comes out when I'm alone. I don't think I'm unique in this regard. Rarely do you find someone that is completely open to the world - there's always a private side to everyone that few will ever see. I think that I've been pretty open about struggling with my diet and I've never tried to make it seem like I'm perfect, but I've noticed that I make better choices when I know that others will see them than I do when I'm by myself. The me that I let people see is a much stronger person, the person that I wish I was all the time.

My biggest struggle over the last year hasn't been doing the work, the physical work of weight loss. Don't get me wrong, I've definitely had struggles in WODs and had to push through injuries, but going to the gym and getting the work done hasn't really been the hard part. I like working out and feeling exhausted and trying new things and lifting heavy stuff and throwing it down. It's fun and I like being around the people at the box and being a part of the community. There have been times where I haven't been feeling great and I've had to force myself to go to the gym, but very seldom have I ever left thinking "I wish I hadn't come today."

Where I've struggled the most is internally. My inner strength and resolve has been the piece that has been my weakest point over the last year, especially when it comes to my diet, because that's the piece that is most often out of the eyes of others. I eat most of my meals alone so there really isn't anyone to judge me or enforce my choices, and this is a big problem for me. For as long as I can remember, and apparently even before I remember I was a sneaky eater. I've heard stories about me as a toddler climbing up on the counter and sitting on top of the refrigerator getting Popsicles out of the freezer and hiding Little Debbie wrappers in the couch cushions, so this is clearly not a new problem. I don't know why, but I still do stuff like this. Living up here alone, no one knows if I go have pizza or eat an entire pint of ice cream, so I do it and don't tell anyone, and it's like it never happened, right? Terrible attitude. Terrible way to live. So destructive. All the hard work that I do in the gym is just getting sabotaged by not being as strong in private as I am in public.

I can be strong and I can make good choices, I've proven it to myself over and over again. I am stronger than food, but more often than not I'm stronger for others than I am for me. At work there are always temptations - cupcakes in the kitchen, going out for frozen yogurt or coffee - at work I am usually always strong and it feels good to stand firm and say no. When I'm faced with those temptations on my own - in the grocery store or on the drive home - I don't fight myself as hard as I fight against other people. I don't tell myself no, I don't stand up for what I've chosen to be the way I want to live, I give in easier. Why won't I fight for myself and be strong because I know it's the best thing for ME?! Why don't put as much stock in how I view myself as I do in how others view me? Why don't I think that just feeling good about myself is a good enough reason to make the right choice? Why am I not enough?

I need to be strong on my own. I need to strengthen my mind and my soul. I need to love me enough to be strong for me. Now, more than ever before. Many times over the last 9 months I've felt like I'm totally alone in this journey, even though I've had a lot of virtual support and I've been working out with others and I've had coaches and teammates, I've still felt very alone. It's about to become more than a feeling. The expense of living in DC has finally caught up with me and I'm going to have to take some time to focus on getting things caught up and back on track. Unfortunately the only expense that I have that I can cut back on is weightlifting and CrossFit. I've tried to find another way to make things work and taking a break from both of those things is the only conclusion I've been able to come to.

I'm sick about this decision. I'm dreading it. It's going to suck. I've convinced myself of this already. It doesn't feel like the right decision, but I don't know what else to do. My outlook thus far has been that CrossFit is what is helping me save my life and I've given it top priority to the detriment of many other things and I just can't seem to make it work anymore. Beyond the financial struggle, trying to make CrossFit work in my life made everything else more difficult. I'm paying more to commute, spending more time commuting, going longer without eating, eating late, getting home late, sleeping less. I spend more time in pain and tired and feeling beat down - I don't feel like I'm able to recover. I don't feel like my life is set up in such a way that I can be successful.

What really worries me is that I'm taking away the only thing that makes me happy and my only source of social interaction. I'm worried about staying strong under those conditions. I'm worried about being strong enough to not only stay on track with my diet, which I've already been having trouble with, but now staying on track with working out. I've been doing CrossFit for over a year now, so I've learned a lot and I know there are many things I can do without a barbell and equipment to keep myself in shape while I'm on this break. The hard thing is going to be keeping myself accountable and motivated to actually do it. To not come home every night and sit on the couch for hours and then go to bed. To keep myself interested in working out when I don't have anyone to motivate me. I think that was a big reason why I wasn't able to stick with any kind of exercise program before - I lacked the motivation and drive and initiative and I needed the support of others to help keep me on track. So what am I going to do now? How am I going to do?

I'm more scared to take the next few steps forward than I have been since the first day I stepped into a CrossFit box. I've come too far and made too much progress to let it all slip away from me, I'm just terrified of how difficult it's going to be to stay strong by myself, for no one else but me. This next chapter is truly me against me. I don't want to have fight this fight alone, but if I can make it to the other side, I think I'll be much stronger for it.

Obstacles

Ginger, Jennifer, Me, Sami, John
(Not Pictured: Diane - she was behind the camera)

This weekend I did my first (and probably last) obstacle course race, the Rugged Maniac 5K, with some great friends from back home. In the continuing tradition of challenging myself, going outside of my comfort zone, and testing my fitness in grand ways, Rugged Maniac is something that I would have NEVER considered a year ago. There are many things about an obstacle race that are so not me - mud, climbing things, heights, tunnels, the threat of injury, wet feet... but as much as I tried to talk myself out of it (and get others to talk me out of it - believe me, my Oly coach tried) and as much as it seemed like a bad idea, I still really wanted to give it a try and see how much I could do.

During the three mile course and the four hour drive home I had a lot of time to reflect on my experience and wax a bit poetic on the parallels I found between the race and life and in particular, my journey.



Here's what I learned:


1. Starting Isn't Easy. With this particular race you had to climb a four foot wall just to get into the
holding pen at the starting line. I immediately felt a little defeated, knowing I couldn't get over it on my own. How was I going to get through this race if I couldn't even start?! That's what teammates are for. Shout out to John for giving me a foot hold and hoisting me over the wall. Sometimes you need someone to throw you over the wall, kick you through the door, push you into the pool... Starting isn't always easy, it's often the hardest part, but if you have someone to help you, it's a little bit easier.

2. Get Dirty Right Away and Get it Over With. Sometimes it's the best policy to jump in head first. Don't try to ease into it or find a way to just dip a toe in, go all out and give it everything you have. If you're already dirty in the first hundred yards it won't be so difficult to get even dirtier a mile or so in. For me, starting my journey like this was key - full commitment to changing my diet, four WODs a week (sometimes five), no use being afraid, no excuse to not at least try everything new. Get dirty and get going on the journey.



3. Don't Get Used to Smooth Terrain. Just when you get used to the level path, dry out a little bit, get your breath back, that's when the next obstacle appears. The course/life/any worthwhile journey isn't going to be a straight-shot, level road that's easily followed. If it was, what would be the point? Feeling pretty good about getting through that barbed wire crawl? Think you're in the home stretch? Well let's trudge through six pools of waist deep mud the consistency of peanut butter. Okay? Celebrate the little victories along the way, but don't get comfortable and forget you're still on the course. You better be ready for the next obstacle that crosses your path, because it will. It always does.



4. Hold on Tight and Be Ready for Others to Rock the Cargo Net. Any time you're trying to do something new and difficult there are going to be moments where you doubt yourself and will want to turn back, climb back down, and give up. Rarely do you exist in a bubble where what you are doing is unaffected by others. Other people who might be on the same path, other people who are taking a different approach, other people who are going to jump onto the cargo net or roll across it and cause your stable foothold to be shaken. Don't let go, don't cry, hold steady, keep your head down, and keep moving forward. Eventually you'll get across and be glad you didn't let the others rocking the cargo net allow you to fall through a hole and be stuck dangling 20 feet in the air with a rope wedgie, so to speak.

5. Pick Your Battles/Know Your Limits. There are likely to be obstacles in your way that are seemingly insurmountable. They may or may not actually be impossible for you to overcome, but sometimes you have to weigh the difficulty of continuing to struggle and expend energy on a task that you really don't have to complete to move forward against the benefit of saving that energy for the things that really matter, like finishing and not getting hurt (my main goal for the race). There were several obstacles that I went around without trying (like the walls because I didn't have anyone that could help me over them and I wasn't strong enough to get over them on my own) and others that I tried but failed to complete, like scaling a muddy hill by pulling yourself up by a rope, all the while keeping yourself from being snagged by the barbed wire overhead. I tried, I really did, but at one point I had nothing left in my arms, couldn't get a foot hold, and realized that if I kept trying I would eventually hurt myself. So I chose to go around without finishing the obstacle, but was okay with the choice because I gave it a good try.



6a. It's Okay to Choose the Path of Least Resistance... especially if it means not falling into a smoldering fire pit. See also #5 above. When I got to this obstacle, knowing that my jumping ability is limited to about a four weight-plate height and distance, and gauging the middle of the fire pit to be more than that, I chose to jump over the end that was lower and not as far across. I still jumped over the fire and got to the other side, I just scaled it to my ability. I didn't necessarily take the easy way out, I just accomplished the task in a way that prevented failure and being burned alive which, in my humble opinion, is always the most desirable outcome.

6b. Avoid Being Burned Alive Whenever Possible. This really needs no further explanation.

7. Be Not Afraid of Dark Tunnels. You may not be able to see it, but there is a light at the end. Even if you can see it and feel like you'll be in the tunnel forever, if you keep moving forward a little bit at a time, you'll eventually make it through. There are moments in any journey when you get mired down in darkness, doubt, and get focused in only on how much you're struggling. It can seem never ending, but try to let your eyes adjust to the darkness and you may actually be able to see that every little step you take forward, even if you're crawling along a half inch at a time, is progress that will eventually lead you out of the tunnel. In situations like this it also helps to have a friend at the other end saying "follow the sound of my voice" assuring you that you won't get stuck in the tunnel and you're just five more good pulls away from getting out.




Me and Jennifer
She clearly finished long before me and was already clean.

Thank you to my fellow Rugged Maniacs (Ginger, Jennifer, Sami, and John) for taking on this challenge with me, and especially Diane for sticking with me through the whole course, capturing all these great moments, and being the voice at the end of the tunnels. I couldn't have done it without you.