Friday, March 12, 2010
I found my first true friend in 10th grade. Well, she kind of found me. Her name is Lauren, and we are in it for the long haul. We’ve seen each other through thick and thin, and there is an unspoken understanding between us that neither one of us is going anywhere. I could call her at 3 am in a crisis, and she could do the same. We don’t live in a world where either of us really needs to invoke the 3 am call, but there’s a knowledge that if the call needed to be made, a voice would be on the other line. A voice that loves and accepts.
Lauren is different than the typical girl I have historically sought out for friendship. We are polar opposites in some respects, and alike in others. She is even keel and doesn’t typically go into things based on strong emotion. She loves the comfort of home- and has known since we were young that she wanted to raise her family in Oklahoma. She is a germ-phobe and luckily can afford a housekeeper. She is a teeny-tiny, size 2 and was very well-liked in school. She has two beautiful children, and is a fantastic mom. She doesn’t favor drama and conflict. And so, our friendship is low-maintenance and virtually drama-free. It’s one of the most lovely relationships in my life.
I find that I have an increasingly deep appreciation for the ease of friendships like the one I have with Lauren. The older I get, the less B.S. I am inclined to put up with. Life is short, after all. I used to believe that all friendships lasted forever. I am a golden retriever type- loyal to the core. And yet I have often found myself bending over backwards in certain friendships where the efforts weren’t reciprocated. A good part of that stems from the fact friends did not come easily for me as a young girl. And as I have said here before, I longed to fit in. I was desperate for it. It surprises me when i recognize that desperation rearing it’s head. I am thankful for the awareness I have now which allows me to take a step back and examine what’s really at the root of my “need.” No, I am not perfect. I often find myself with hurt feelings before I am aware enough to step back. But the learning curve is getting shorter all the time. And I am grateful for progress, not perfection.
I used to feel as though accumulating friendships, lots of them, somehow increased my worth. But the truth is, with all the world hands us, if we can manage to love a few people well in this life, I think we are doing a great job. And true friends are rare. I hope this makes sense to someone out there.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
I couldn’t sleep last night. I knew I would wake up and March 2nd would finally be here… and the anticipation was just a bit too much for me. Orchid is being released today- it’s her birthday. Yes, the album is a girl. If you’ve met her, you already know this as true. We don’t have any kids… yet. But we have music that we create and let out into the world. You can’t imagine the labor of love that is imagining, writing, recording, producing, packaging, and marketing a record. It’s a monumental task. And now she’s here… Orchid. And I am a proud, proud mama.
I am AMAZED that less than a year ago we went into the studio with Will Hunt (who got props at http://www.rollingstone.com today by the way… Go Will!), that was such a dream for me. It seems like so much has happened in the past year and at the same time it seems like we were in the studio yesterday. Why is that exactly? I digress….
Side-note: Not only is Orchid releasing officially today, but we are also unveiling the new http://www.kcclifford.com website. Our friends Nathan & Brian (affectionately known in our closest circle as “The Fifth Beatle” and “Genius 1 & Genius 2″), made the hope of this incredible new site a real thing. And needless to say, they did NOT get paid what they are worth… because I couldn’t afford them. It has been such a fun little adventure imagining what I would want if I could have anything on the site, and then seeing them actualize that. Y’all think me getting up to sing my little folk songs is amazing… I think html code and design are extraordinarily amazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you Nathan & Brian! We love you so and your friendship is a great treasure!
Orchid could not have happened without the extravagant generosity of my friends… The Generous Friends have banded together and rallied behind this album in the most humbling, beautiful way. And I had you generous souls in my heart’s eye every step of the way- hoping against hope that I would be a good steward of the resources with which you entrusted me, and that I would make you proud to be a part of it. I’ve never been so sure of what I was put on this earth for as I am when I think about the creative work Orchid embodies.
I hope you’ll raise a glass with me and toast as we celebrate Orchid, our new arrival. I have great anticipation of all she’s meant to do in the world. To Orchid. Ching, ching. And to you for making the dream of her a reality. Hear, hear, you dear generous friends. Hear, hear.
Welcome to the world, lovely Orchid.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Ten years ago today, I met my sweet husband David. We were at the Galileo open mic on an unseasonably warm Thursday in February. Despite the fact I had always said, “I’m not the kind of a girl that a boy would cross a room to meet,” he crossed the room to meet me. And the path of our lives were forever changed for the better. That would be the first in a lifetime of moments where he challenged what I believe about myself.
It’s hard to explain what it’s like to be loved by such an amazing man. I am confident that I’m the luckiest girl in the world to be the one he chose. Every day he reminds me how I deserve to be treated. There are many moments when I expect frustration from him and I’m met with kindness, patience, gentleness. He moves through our relationship with an uncanny tenderness. I often talk about how I’m learning to be kinder to myself. His love demonstrates this to me in the most extraordinarily ordinary ways, in daily mundane circumstances. David makes me want to be the best possible version of myself- not in a perfectionist way, but a lovely human way.
Rarely a show goes by that an audience member doesn’t comment about how David watches me when we’re on stage. People think I don’t know. But I do. That’s how he looks at me every day when I wake up in the morning and each night when we go to bed. And after ten years, I still light up when he walks in the room, too.
So today, I just want to honor him by letting the world know what kind of man he is. He is a man among men.
I love this photo taken of us by Neale Eckstein backstage at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival last summer.
I look forward to all the decades to come for us to share. David Christopher Broyles, my sweet husband, I adore you and I love you. I am the luckiest.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Growing up I longed to fit in. I just wanted to be “normal”, whatever that means. But I was a fish out of water. I went to a socially cut-throat private school from K-12. My graduating class boasted a whopping 46 students, 23 of whom had been my classmates since kindergarten. Needless to say, we lacked variety. Most of my earliest playmates were the children of my parents’ friends. Not really kids I chose to hang out with, just the ones I was thrown in with by default.
I often say I was a dork in school. And that is still true- I was. I also openly admit to being a dork now. That has not changed either. But in school, I was the girl who was on the fringe of the popular kids. I was invited by familial default, and later excluded by design. I didn’t come into my own until my 20’s, so in my years as an awkward middle and high-schooler, I looked to others to define who I was. I was certain they knew the answer to all my questions about myself. And I wanted “their” stamp of approval and acceptance. Oh the elusive “they.” Some days I wish I had been a complete outsider, and maybe that would have forced me to find my own way sooner. But I know that plight comes with it’s own brand of suffering, too. And the grass is always greener, right?
It’s funny (in a sad funny kind of way) how I still feel the aftershocks of those school years. And they crop up without warning. This weekend, David and I are in Florida at the 30A Songwriters Festival. I didn’t know what to expect because we’ve never been to this festival before. Actually, no one has because this is the first year for the festival. There have been a couple of welcome/kick-off parties for the artists. The festival organizers have really worked to make us feel welcome. We went to a party the other night and I found myself spinning. It was one of those moments where my brain said, “Look around, K.C. Everyone here already knows each other. And you don’t know anyone. What are you going to do, walk up to strangers and try to fit in? Good luck with that.” So I stood frozen (figuratively and literally because the party was outdoors).. but mostly frozen in my fear, which is an awful captor.
And here are two truths I never remember in moments like that party:
1. Everyone is scared. Every single one of us is scared of something, and we’re often scared of each other, and too scared to admit it. What a racket we’ve created for ourselves. We are so good at keeping up appearances, that we fool each other into believing our own bullshit smoke and mirrors act. No one has it all together. And if I could figure out how to cut through my fear and all the mind-numbing small talk at functions like that, I might actually engage in a conversation that reveals we are all very much the same. And I am willing to bet most of those “popular” artists at the party were flying by the seat of their pants, too. Smiling through the fear. Faking it till they made it. Maybe even Sam Bush and Indigo Girls Emily Saliers felt that way. But I was too scared to talk to them, so I don’t know. I might be in the wrong business. No, that’s just crazy talk.
2. The second truth is no less important. I was never meant to fit in at all. I played a show with some lovely ladies in Atlanta this past week: Rebecca Loebe, Alexa Woodward, and Lauren Lapointe. We played in the round, so we were all on stage at once. Rebecca sat next to me, and at one point, I glanced down at her pedal tuner. (A little box on the floor that helps us tune our guitars.. we step on the tuner to make it work, thus it’s a pedal. Okay lesson over..) Rebecca had written on her tuner in Sharpie, and it said “RADIATE!” in a big fun font. So every time she looks down at her pedal to tune her guitar, she has this reminder to stand out, be different, shine. I am not sure what I found so appealing about the status quo, but the reality is I was meant to radiate, not imitate. I guess in some ways I’m afraid of myself. Afraid of all I’m meant to be. Thanks for the reminder, Rebecca. I needed that.
I am going to leave you with this quote, which I first heard in the movie Akeelah and the Bee. I am sucker for a good spelling bee flick.
it is our light not our darkness that most frightens us
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other
people won’t feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
-Marianne Williamson
Go on… shine your light bright. You know you want to.
Monday, January 11, 2010
I’m having deja-vu. We are on currently on a two-week mid-west/east coast tour. In order to really understand the scope of this entry, you might want to read this one first, if you haven’t already.
Okay, now that we’re all on the same page, allow me to proceed. I’ll get back to the deja-vu part momentarily. The top 10 highlights (and low points) of our tour have gone something like this:
1. Awake at 3:45 am to load up & drive to Indianapolis in time for a gig that night. Despite the 4 hours of sleep, we are troopers and our marriage harmony is in no way threatened by our having to work as a team with sleep-deprivation. Leave OKC at 5 am.
2. As we stroll into Tulsa on the Turnpike, the car starts acting up. Although I am putting on the brakes, the speedometer decides to grow a mind of its own and takes the RPM gauge with it. While we are not moving, the car reads 70 + mph and 6000 RPMs. Because the car seems to be functioning properly other than the gauges on the dash, we gratefully deduce this is an electrical issue and drive on. Thankfully, Samantha, our GPS tells us how fast we’re going, so we’ve used her as our speedometer for the remainder of the trip thus far.
3. Speaking of names, we were encouraged in the midst of the car troubles on Wed. that we needed to bestow a name upon our vehicle. This way when we are white-knuckling our way across the country with no time to spare, we can pat her on the head (read: dash) and say “Come on _____, don’t die on me now.” This topic provided us hours of entertainment on our drive Wednesday. And after much deliberation, we decided that her name is Dottie June, Dottie for short. Dottie is based on an abbreviation since she is our personal Department Of Transportation. And adding the June on the end just sounds southern and cute when I say it.
4. The gig on Wednesday night went great. We met new friends and connected with old ones. I even got my new friend Sylvia to sing along to the Barbie song, which was a real coup. We were grateful to everyone who came out with the pending weather, and especially Rhonda who flew in from Oklahoma City just to go to the show with her family in Indiana! Now that’s a generous friend!
5. We stayed the night with some friends of mine from my Nashville days. Sleep was a welcome activity. On Thursday morning I set my alarm early and moved some furniture in order to get in a workout. My in-laws gave me some Biggest Loser DVD’s for Christmas, and I was proud of myself for getting up after such a long day before. As you know, I am trying to turn over a new leaf on my life as a touring artist who cares about her health. So, putting myself on the list was a victory! With the morning came a significant snowstorm. I think after surviving the Oklahoma City Christmas Blizzard of 2009, we weren’t really scared of the storm. In retrospect, maybe we should have been more mindful. But hindsight is always 20/20. We were scheduled to play a show in West Virginia that night, and the drive was 8 hours. We thought we left in plenty of time, but as soon as we got out on the roads, we learned the error of our ways. Traffic was extremely slow-going and the roads were far less than ideal. Instead of traveling the interstate speed limits, we could only go 40-50 mph. We watched as our arrival time in WV got further and further behind schedule on the GPS. Outside of Dayton, Ohio traffic came to a stand still. We sat in the same spot for an hour and a half. Later the news would tell us that tragically, a tractor-trailer skidded across the median into oncoming traffic, hitting a bus carrying special needs adults- killing 3 of them and their bus driver. So sad. Realizing there was no way for us to make the gig in time, and no reason to stay on the roads considering the danger, we turned across the median and went back to the next exit to regroup. After a look at the atlas, we called one of my best college friends, Whitney, who live in Cincinnati with her husband and twp precious girls. Always the gracious host, she offered us shelter with open arms. Nothing like a couple of unplanned house guests!
6. We were supposed to go from West Virginia to DC to visit for a day or two with our dear friends who moved to Belgium this year. Our change in plans rendered that leg of our trip a no-go. We were really bummed, but it didn’t make sense to get on the roads at that point. I guess that means we’ll definitely have to tour Belgium this year to make up for it!
7. Being at Whitney and Jason’s house was a real treat. We got some much needed rest, and David nursed the cold he woke up with on Thursday morning. On Friday I went for a 5 mile run on Whitney’s treadmill and tacked on part of a Biggest Loser Power Sculpt DVD for good measure. We even got a little work done in the afternoon. It was nice to just be and catch up with old friends, and we had some fantastic pizza from a local place called Marco’s.
Whitney, my sweet friend from college days at IU.
8. Friday night after the girls were in bed, we adults were playing Mad Gab in the basement. (Which by the way, David is the Ultimate Mad Gab Master.. it’s kind of freakish how good he is at it.) Jason and I ran upstairs to get some snacks. On my way down, I slipped on the top step and fell all the way down their basement stairs. Certainly not my most graceful moment. I went down on my back the whole way, and it all happened so fast I just couldn’t stop the momentum. Honestly, it was pretty scary. I was shocked at first, and did the checking to make sure all my limbs & parts were still attached in their proper places thing. Although there was significant pain in my back, I quickly determined I still had feeling in my legs (which is ALWAYS a reassuring feature). Other than the back pain and a gash on my left hand that was bleeding, I was okay. Considering the distance I traveled, I think I made out like a bandit. Some serious divine intervention was involved in that, I presume.
9. Due to the stair incident, I am glad to be in motion at all, but have for the time being been rendered unable to work-out. This is a very frustrating turn of events.
10. On Sunday morning, we left Cincinnati and drove to Pittsburgh, PA for a lovely house concert with our friend Brad Yoder and an under-confident local named Mark Williams who should have CD’s out, but he doesn’t. There is a prevalence of folks who grew up in the Mennonite/Amish culture in the area. Although the people we met are not necessarily practicing the same lifestyle as the homes they were raised in, they carry a spirit about them that is charged with community, simplicity, hospitality, and a love of the earth. I am milling over some of these observations about which I may post at a later date. needless to say, it was a refreshing experience to be among them. This morning I recorded a background vocal part for Brad’s new CD, to be released later this year. I got to sing on 4 songs on the record, and I hope you’ll check it out…. Now we are en route Annapolis, MD for a show tonight and we’re hoping the weather will get WARMER from here!
Here’s a view from my seat through Dottie’s dashboard window:
So the highlight section was longer than I intended, but at least you’re caught up. Now let’s get back to the deja-vu.
Last winter my gallbladder surgery derailed what I felt was forward progress towards my health goals. But as I’ve said before, I was not kind to myself during that time. So in reality, my reaction to my health problems derailed my forward progress towards the even larger & way more important goal of loving and offering kindness to myself. The stair incident this weekend has me feeling some old familiar things. I am impatient with my body and this process. I was so focused on implementing health into this tour and really having a great go of it this time, that my back injury has me spinning a bit.
Historically, I have been an all or nothing kind of girl. And this weekend, I found that my tendency was to just throw in the towel on my health. Part out of frustration, part out of my own lack of kindness towards the process. When one thing goes “wrong” with my perfect little plan, I tend to just give up on the whole deal. Fear of failure is in there somewhere, I know. You’d think that when I am unable to work out, I would be more mindful of my food choices to balance it out. But typically, not so much. I think it’s even worse because there’s a sadness or even grief over my unmet expectation of having a successful trip in terms of workouts. So I want to eat those emotions too.
And the truth is, reality is, that my back is hurt. And I need to be kind to myself and offer myself grace and compassion. I don’t need to be working out while I’m hurt. I need to be kind. I even feel guilty that David has to do all the loading and unloading, and last night I pushed my body to help- the result of which was that my back hurt more. And David isn’t mad or making me feel bad about not helping, he is so sweet and loving, and he wants me to feel better. I just want to believe I have some kind of invincibility that I actually do not possess. Does anyone else out there struggle accepting your own humanness? Living within your own limits? I know I do. But I guess that’s pretty obvious right about now.
I once ran a half marathon on an injured foot and wound up in a cast for 6 weeks. I couldn’t see how my impatience with the short term sacrifice would lead to even worse long term consequences. In the end, as I hobbled into Glen’s (my therapist) office, i remember him saying to me, “I think it’s sad you feel the need to be so hard on yourself, to punish yourself. I want to invite you to be kinder to you.”
So what does all this mean, really? I am not sure, and I certainly don’t claim to have all the answers. What I do know, is that today I am going to take it easy, and not push myself. I am not going to wear heels. I am also not going to throw the baby out with bathwater where my food plan is concerned. Just because I am not working out doesn’t mean my tour health goals are a bust. Truth be told, if I let my food plan go by the way-side, I will feel worse about the bigger picture. And I am doing okay food-wise this trip, and that’s a true victory given the stressors we’ve encountered.
How are you doing with all this? Are there ways you are learning to offer yourself compassion? Do you have any great tips on putting yourself on the list? I am always open to learning.
Friday, January 1, 2010
I am not a big New Year’s resolution maker. I find that, for me, they have proven ineffective.
There was the year that I smoked a whole pack of cigarettes on New Year’s Eve in an effort to make myself so nauseous I would never smoke again. Didn’t work. I finally quit cold-turkey on a random Saturday in April of 2002. Years spent making a lot of fruitless promises to God on New Year’s Eve- all the ways I would miraculously change my own character flaws overnight- by my own strength of course. Not so much. I’ve cleaned out closets that eventually fell back into patterns of chaos. I’ve resolved to become better, more perfected in ways that I can’t even begin to number. And somewhere around Jan 21st, or oftentimes much earlier, I awake to the realization that I am still me. Reliably dependable, messed-up-in-the-most-beautiful-and-irritating-of-ways me.
And then there are the diets. You know what I’m talking about. Especially if you are a girl. But guys, I know you’re feeling me too, and I don’t wish to leave you out. What is it about the turning of the annual clock that possesses us to put ourselves through the ringer? I have not met enough people who say, this year, I am going to accept myself like I am. This year, I resolve to love myself.
You know what I love about the life I live now? I started my weight loss journey on a Tuesday in August. There was nothing special about the day or date. It was just time. And I was ready. And every day I either choose to stay on the journey or not. And then I decide again the next day, or hour, or bite. And even when I feel like I’m not on the right journey anymore, I still am. The journey is.
Since I turned over a new leaf on December 1st, I have lost 8 pounds and 10.25 inches. I feel great about that. The holidays were not without their fair share of speed bumps- like the week I gained 4 pounds. Oops. It happens. And I am brave enough to own the choices that led to the gain. I can safely say somewhere in that gain was a stellar sodium-laden meal at Irma’s the night before weigh-in, a cupcake (or two) and some days where I chose to eat my stress instead of taking a walk. I also wore jeans to weigh-in, which I never do, and most of us girls have a week every month where we retain water like a camel. It’s OK. The next week I answered back with a loss of 4.8 pounds.
As far as I’m concerned making it through the holidays while maintaining my weight would have been considered a win. But I feel great that more days were spent loving myself with health than punishing myself with unhealthy food behaviors. That’s progress, not perfection. And I’ll take it.
How are things going for you? Were you kind to you this Christmas? If not, why not? I hope you don’t resolve anything this year but to treat yourself with love and kindness. And if you must set a goal that starts this New Year off, take it in baby steps.. maybe set a goal for today, not for all of 2010. I didn’t set out to lose 100 pounds, I just wanted to get out and run. The worst kind of goals are the ones that set you up to fail before you even have a chance to get started. I find what works best for me is to break my big goals down into bite-size pieces. And don’t be afraid to write down your small goal for today- a goal without a deadline is just a wish.
I hope this year brings each of you health and happiness.
Peace.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
I remember living in Nashville over 10 years ago crossing my fingers that one day I might have a record of my own. And then arose the opportunity to record an album for free in a friend’s basement. I was thrilled. Over the moon. A life-long dream was materializing before my eyes. Back then, I felt that having a CD of my own was this legitimizing symbol. All the work was not in vain, all the years of lessons and sacrifices were wrapped in one shiny disc. I can call up that joy at a moment’s notice. The kid at Christmas feeling- wide-eyed and hopeful.
The funny thing is at the time I don’t think I had even dreamed much past that first CD. It was such a pinnacle. And then I “released” it in July 2000 to a hometown crowd of over 400 people. (In this context, release is a very loose term meaning manufactured and sold at shows.) The work required to just get the record out to a buying public was formidable. The morning after the CD release concert I woke up with my jaw locked open. I had been so stressed that I developed TMJ. I was completely unaware of the toll it was taking on me physically and emotionally. It’s all kind of a blur now, but the other day David reminded me what a mess I was the night before the release show. And he’s right. I had to be talked down from a ledge. It was the typical bad rehearsal, great opening night scenario. But I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
As cliche as this seems, I cannot believe it’s been a decade since I first made that record. But inevitably, time passes whether we’re paying attention or not. Two more records have come and gone since that initial effort. And each record has brought new challenges and lessons. I have learned so much, it makes the “me” 10 years ago look like a complete amateur. Which I was. But aren’t we always just doing the best we can with what we have? I know that’s what I strive for… most days.
The pending new year finds me poised to release my 4th record, entitled Orchid, out into the world. Around here we’ve adopted a sort of “Go big or go home” mentality with this project. We’ve pooled all the knowledge we’ve collected over the years, and are implementing a strategy to release Orchid nationally. Orchid has been completely fan-funded, and we have been blown away by your generosity. To learn more about the “Become My Record Label” project (still ongoing!) click here: Become My Record Label.
So this week we are putting together the press kits that will be sent out to the national media. I love the creative part of the process, and so designing the look and feel of the folders has been a treat for me. But the other minutia I could live without as it does seem to drag on a bit. I know it will all feel worth it Tuesday when I stand at the post office and let them go like little balloons floating out into the world.
All that being said, when I think back on the release of Times Like These, I can see how far I’ve come on so many levels. I am still learning for sure, but I can see the ways I take better care of myself during the process…
Which brings me to a quick side-note update for you who are interested: I lost 3 pounds this week! I worked my tail off and stuck to my plan and it paid off! I was so pumped at my weigh in! I am back up to running 4.5 miles. My workouts are a key component of my stress-management plan as we head into the Orchid release. Even with the mile-long to-do lists this week I made sure to put myself on the list, too. There was only one day that got away without me exercising- and I’m not beating myself up about it. Right now, we are on the road to play a show in Iowa tonight. Being in the car has reminded me all the challenges that are ahead. I’m still learning how to make this all work. But today has been a success. We packed food in our cooler and when I was unhappy with my choices, I bought a banana at a convenience store instead of a cookie. One step at a time…. So I’ve lost a total of 6.6 pounds and have 23.4 to get back to my lowest point. And I’m totally going to do it!
Now back to the topic at hand… the Orchid release. I wanted to make sure you all knew that we are doing a pre-release to help raise money for the Food Bank. To order yours today visit: http://blog.kcclifford.com/orchid You have until Dec 24th and then they will not be available for purchase until the CD release concerts at the Blue Door on Friday, Feb. 12th & Saturday, Feb. 13th at 8 pm. To purchase advance tickets for the shows visit the Blue Door website.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Starting over. I have an issue with that phrase. I think it doesn’t do justice to the process of life and learning. But I am not sure what other phrase to use. I’ve been known to say, “I’m hitting the reset button,” but again, that statement kind of cheats me. I don’t want a blank slate, not even really a do-over. I want nothing to do with the implied negation of everything that has come before. Because that seems a little harsh, and I am hoping to be kinder to myself these days. I’d like to identify myself with a process of grace, of kindness and compassion to who I am, where I’ve been and where I’m going. With all of that in mind, I’ve decided to say “I am turning over a new leaf.” If my research is correct, that phrase is derived from the literal turning of a page (or leaf) in a book. It is not like I’m going to burn the chapters that came before. On the contrary, those chapters are essential, necessary elements of the ongoing story. And I love a good story. I am taking what I’ve learned so far and turning over to the next page, to see what comes next. Oh, the ever-unfolding story of life.
Most of you reading probably know that a year or so ago I lost over 100 pounds. Although I see my weight loss journey on a much longer continuum, for my purposes in this post, I’ll mark August 2007 as a significant crossroads. That’s when I started losing weight. But years of emotional growth preceded that crossroads. I turned over a new leaf and began to be intentional about getting physically healthy, but I couldn’t have done that without all the chapters that came before. So it wasn’t like I started over. A year to the day I started, I was 102 pounds lighter. August 2007-August 2008 was a remarkable, transformative year, in more ways than just physically. The learning curve was steep, and I was constantly regaining my footing to adjust to the rapid changes in my body, mind and emotions. As a matter of fact, I still feel like I am trying to catch up emotionally to the new version of me.
But in order to bring you into the now with me, I need to review the last few pages of the story for you. Get you caught up. I value authenticity, and I want to live in the truth of today. So here’s the rest of the story…
For most of the year of my initial weight loss, I worked a desk job. Very predictable hours. I brought my lunch every day. Since I sat at a computer all day, I tracked my food online at http://www.weightwatchers.com. I worked out in the morning or sometimes at my lunch hour. I was training for a half marathon, and my life generally possessed a consistent flow.
In the late spring/early summer of 2008, I lost my day-job. A true blessing in disguise, I was handed the gift of a chance to pursue my music dream full-time. We adopted the motto, “Leap and the net will appear” and to this day, it has. Jumping into full-time touring was a huge risk, but it was one we had to take. By the end of the summer, David had left his day-job too, and we hit the road together. We are living our dream to this day.
But with the dream of touring came a whole new pace of life I was not used to. Incorporating my food and exercise plan into a life of constant travel has proven to be a formidable challenge. Some tours have been more successful than others in this regard. By no means do I feel that I have mastered the task of taking care of my health while on the road. My therapist and I have spoken at length of the why behind my food behaviors and how I crave nurture. Food is a false nurture, but sometimes you just take what you can get. When your sick on tour in the cold rain of Philadelphia and you haven’t been home for a few weeks, sometimes a milkshake can masquerade as comfort. Don’t get me wrong, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with a milkshake. I am not into deprivation and restriction anymore. My food plan is not about punishment. But a milkshake cannot be part of every day eating for me. It’s not what’s best, what’s loving and kind to me in the long run. A fellow Weight Watcher’s member taught me the phrase, “Never ask a cookie to do more than a cookie can do.” And that’s so true.
Right after 2008 turned into 2009, the swell of activity surrounding the Biggest Loser segment commenced. For all intents and purposes, from New Year’s Day onward was a whirlwind. I was kind of a mess. And I thought my head might spin off axis, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other. On Jan 22 I landed in the ER with a gallbladder attack- my first ever. I have never known pain of that nature. Yowza, that was intense. As a side note, apparently 25% of women who have significant weight loss end up having their gall bladders removed. Who knew, right? The news came that uninsured me needed to have surgery, and quickly. Honestly, I treated the whole having an organ removed thing like a blip on the radar. In my mind, I didn’t have time to think about it. I scheduled the surgery asap, and 4 days after surgery I was in Kansas City performing for 2 nights, incisions, painkillers and all. A week after my surgery, The Biggest Loser returned to Oklahoma City for the second time to film a segment about me and my music. If you watch the segment video, I’m doing abs on a ball. The whole time I was wincing in pain from the incisions in my belly feeling like they were ripping apart at the seams. Two days later, David and I left for the east coast on tour for a month.
My body did not respond well to my lack of compassion. My digestive system staged full-on, inconveniently-timed rebellion strikes against me. I didn’t know what to eat or what not to eat to be safe. On top of my gall bladder removal side effects, I got sick with sinus infections twice on tour- the first week and the last week. I had 4 rounds of antibiotics in 7 weeks. I was ragged, in my body and my spirit. The tour ended with a bang on March 10th with the airing of my segment on the Biggest Loser and two television interviews in Indianapolis. In an effort to make it from Boston to Indy on time for the news broadcast, we slept for 4 hours in the car in a Love’s parking lot somewhere in Pennsylvania the night before. I didn’t even leave myself time to shower before being interviewed on TV.
Three days after returning home from tour we went into the studio to begin recording my new CD, “Orchid.” If you’ve never been through a creative process like making an album, just trust me when I say the emotional, mental and physical outlay is tremendous. We worked almost everyday for a month. The studio is creative childbirth- all those sounds and energy and ideas pushing their way to the surface, and formulating and growing and changing all the while. It’s beautiful and intense. It’s exhausting and exhilarating.
I emerged in late April and early May a fraction of myself. With the looming hospital bills we didn’t have the means to pay and business debts related to the marketing push around Biggest Loser, I was pretty strung out on stress. I was irritable and exhausted. I couldn’t stop crying and I wanted to sleep all the time. I was really out of touch with my heart. In mid-May, my therapist suggested that I was suffering from a pretty intense bout of depression. This information came not as a surprise, but a relief. I felt so out of control, and I just kept trying to whip myself into shape. Suck it up, walk it off, get over it, snap out of it. But I couldn’t.
I have a history of depression, I’m not ashamed of this and neither should you be if you battle it. It’s chemistry. I first started struggling in middle school. I was medicated for it in my early twenties. Eventually, under Dr.’s care, I came off my meds and learned how to manage my depression without them. Until this year. I learned that as one who is prone to depression, an event like my gallbladder surgery can set me off. The phrase Glen, my therapist, used was this: “The body doesn’t know the difference between a surgeon’s knife and gunshot wound. Trauma in the body is trauma in the body.” A traumatic physical event like surgery can trigger a depression in anyone, especially if their already living with depression as their baseline. Add to the surgery a tour, more illness, the outlay of a new CD and some national TV exposure and Wham! You have yourself a nice bout of depression. He thought I might resist going back on meds, but to his surprise, I happily deferred to his suggestion. I knew he was right, and I felt so grateful to have someone looking out for me. My response to him was, “I’m all about solutions, Glen.” Truer words have never been uttered about me.
I wish I could tell you that 3-5 weeks later I felt better, but that was not the case. The first drug they put me on was not effective, and actually caused my depression to severely worsen. Suffice it to say, June and early July brought some very dark days for me. It turns out, the medicine was not indicated for lethargic depression, and had a negative effect. I did not need to come down anymore. Once they realized what was wrong, I was switched to Prozac, my old friend. I am fairly certain God himself invented Prozac.
I would have to wait until mid-August to really start feeling better. It was a long, hard summer. I’d be just fine if I never saw those days again. I don’t know what I would have done without David, Glen, and a few dear friends. I believe we were all created to need one another. Don’t suffer alone.
I felt like I had been given a new lease on life. You don’t know how much of yourself you lose until you find her again. I awoke to fall, and a new chance. I was so grateful the pages were turning.
But I also awoke 30 pounds heavier. When I look at the sum of the parts that this past year was made of, I think gaining only 30 pounds is actually pretty impressive. I have in the past gained far more in shorter periods of time. I am working on not being ashamed of myself. And writing this post today is part of that process for me. I started my weight loss journey with one thing in mind: I wanted to learn how to love myself from the inside out. And through that to learn about healthy living. The process was never about punishment. I committed to not punish myself to lose weight, and I refuse to punish myself upon gaining weight. My purpose remains clear.
I am not, however, prepared to coast at this weight any longer. I feel like I am ready to turn over a new leaf. I want to take everything I have learned, every gain and loss inside and out- and equipped with that knowledge I want to live today full of love for myself. I deserve to keep pressing on towards the goal I’ve been called to. All is not lost! The rewards of this year are many! And I am pushing back the resistance and turning the page.
What does all this mean? As the leaf is turning over, I have rededicated myself to the process of health. And I’d love for you to take the journey alongside me- as a reader, a cheerleader or a participant. Or all of those. I am now working out again consistently, 5-6 days a week. And I have brought my food plan back into check. I’m striving for one dessert a week (they are my BIG weakness), and I’m increasing my protein intake to help build muscle that can burn fat.
My first few days have been a success. I lost 3.6 pounds at my weigh-in this week. Don’t be fooled, this process is not at all about the numbers. Improved numbers are a fringe benefit to loving myself in a healthy way. I am however going to be divulging my numbers here, as a way to stay honest and accountable. As of this week, I have 26.4 pounds to lose to get back to my lowest point, and 45 pounds total to reach my ultimate goal weight, which is determined by my doctors and my healthy BMI.
It’s a humbling thing to know that I have been an inspiration to others in my weight loss journey. But I find perfection can be discouraging, and I want to be honest about who I am. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written and I’m terrified to put my weakness out there. I do not by any stretch of anyone’s imagination have things all figured out. I am just a girl, albeit a hopeful one, a courageous one who dares to live my life out loud. But at the end of the day, I’m just a human being like you. And I am nowhere near perfect.
I am so proud of myself for how far I’ve come, and I’m proud of each one of you who have started a journey to loving yourself as well. No matter where you are in your journey, I want you to know that you can do this. And like I always say, “A year from now you will wish you started today.” Don’t wait to put yourself on the list. You’re worth it.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Tonight I am amazed by my own capacity for insecure girl b.s. Is there a certain birthday or year or moment when we as women stop comparing ourselves to each other? If so, I wish someone would let me know when I can expect that to come to fruition in my personal life. Just when I think I’ve made these great strides towards loving myself, I get caught off guard only to find my thoughts reeling and spinning as my critical self goes on an emotional dialogue rampage.
Why is it so easy for women to be our own worst enemies? I had a pretty rough social upbringing. Very cut-throat and often hateful. And I’m the first to admit that I still bear the scars from my time growing up- I’ve got rejection issues coming out my yin-yang. But who doesn’t, right? We all have our middle school war stories. But you’d think all these years of therapy would have cured me by now… (I really hope my therapist reads that last sentence, as it was written entirely for his enjoyment.) And although I have done my fair share of growing up and getting over/through the pain of my past, it’s shocking how one night at a concert around a certain crowd of people can reduce me to age 13 faster than you can say “________________.” (Insert long hard-to-say word here that I can’t think of currently. ie: Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious, but not that one exactly.)
I am pretty sure that tonight I compared my body and fashion sense to that of a flock of pre-teens… And a smattering of high-schoolers…. and a sect of too-cool for school college kids… and top it off with a row of sloshed twenty-somethings. In two short hours I felt fat, old, ugly, frumpy, un-stylish, and without the right words. It was like I was transported to a year that starts with 198_. I was at a loss for one kind thing to think or say to myself. How sad.
I don’t have any great insights to tie this post up in a tidy package with a bow. But I am hollering out of my own deficit to all you other girls out there. We really need to be nicer to ourselves. This comparison shit is getting out of hand.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
For years certain people (Mom, you know who you are…) have been giving me grief about not posting journal entries more often on my website. I’d respond that I just didn’t have anything to say right then, which I know must seem surprising considering my loquacious nature. But as time went on, I realized that I did have things to say, I just didn’t always have the time or energy to compose my thoughts in a polished (read: perfect-ish) manner. Thus, when I decided to launch this blog, the naysayers looked askance at me, their non-verbal skepticism hollering “How are you ever going to keep up with a blog?”
In this way the blog is an extension of my inner-work. I move forward believing that I can let myself off the hook long enough to just write and share without always being under the microscope of my own harsh criticism. Being an artist who hopes to bring my authentic self to the stage with me every night has taught me much about risking the truth, risking the honest, raw, vulnerable places. Someone recently asked me why I do what I do as a performer, what makes me keep at it. “What else would I do?” always comes to mind. But my answer that day was this: I write and perform to connect with people. I do it to offer hope to some, to one, to speak of the mystery of our unique commonality as humans in a broken world, and extend the reassurance that none of us travel alone on this journey. We live in a web of myths and isolation. Not one of us is without fear, regret, questioning, and pain. But most of us believe we are the only one, and the cycle spins on. Hiding is easier than letting the walls crash down. Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves.
Today when I opened my laptop to write a blog on the way from Madison, WI to Chicago, I froze up. I was tempted to hide in silence. I didn’t think I had anything of note to say. And then I realized that even in my fear of not being polished and perfect and acceptable I could reach out, stand up, use my voice and just put something out there. Anything really. I could have typed out a knock-knock joke or “Woohoo McDonald’s!” the content wasn’t really of much consequence. It’s the fear-conquering action that counts today. The fact that I blogged even though I felt like I had nothing perfect or otherwise to say. I hope you do one thing today that scares you. Feel free to leave a comment and tell me about it when you do. You’re worth it. For that matter, so am I.
