True Colors Part Deux | Drawing Those Parallels

Day 2006 of the journey.

I recently read one of my blog posts this weekend, from July 1, 2017. This was after one of you kindly nudged me and asked where I was? Writing on this blog and talking to God was how I would express everything going on, which changed somewhere along the line. It was how I processed experiences and was also a way to “send it out to the universe,” which was just a way of releasing and letting it go. I miss that because what I have been doing isn’t serving me well. What have I been doing? I grab lit firecrackers, close my hand around them, and hope they don’t blow up.

One of the things that stood out from this 2017 post was how important it was to make peace with time. I’m glad that’s one of the first things I did because I think it carried me this far.

I had expectations when I started that I would have met all my goals by the time I got here in the future. If someone had said, “Girl, you are going to still be in the fight five years later,” I might not have started. Never in my dreams could I have predicted everything that would present itself along the way. “Making peace with time” aged well.

This weekend five years ago, I managed to escape the grip of my first coach, and this post was a declaration of Independence of sorts.

In 2017 one of the first things my first coach did when I signed up with them was they prescribed $600 a month in supplements, pills, juices, and magic potions. This was on top of the $90 per session fees I paid 3-4 times per week. I never questioned it at the time because that’s how bad I wanted my coach to take me seriously. They told me that if I contested their training or prescriptions, I would be “out.” I had struggled with acceptance my whole life and wanted so badly to meet people, get out of my house, or I knew I would die. Paying for the additional monthly supplements was the only way I would prove to them that I was taking my health seriously. I cringed at the thought of upsetting or disappointing my coach. I would have done anything to feel like I belonged somewhere. I didn’t speak up or say things because I didn’t want to cause problems. I craved approval. Like many others just like me, especially those of us who have struggled with weight since childhood, I grew up believing I was a broken human. There was something wrong with me. Say something? Advocate for myself? Never….

I moved to a different coach while the other was on some MLM trip. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. I remember sitting at the keyboard crying while I typed that post out because I was just over it! I was ready to move forward.

“Be who you are, unapologetic.  Fight for it” (2017).

The irony of this post is that I crave that sort of Independence again in a different way. They say history keeps repeating itself until you can grasp the lesson. I’m a big believer in that.

Earlier today, I listened to a great podcast by Justin Su’a that reminded me that I needed to focus on things I could control. The last year and a half have been so bumpy that I would draw a blank every time I sat down to write. I would complete a half-page, get frustrated, delete it, get up, and walk away.

Rather than tell you about that year and a half, I’m just going to tell you a story—fictional, of course.

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Jaime lives in a great neighborhood. It could always be better, but she’s willing to do whatever it takes to make it a nice place to live.

A while back, the builder of her neighborhood decided to create a homeowners association, and she volunteered for it. At first, she was excited about it because it was an opportunity for her to do her part to make it the most magnificent neighborhood in the world. The beginnings were brutal. The seeming majority of the HOA were Vikings fans, and Jaime didn’t fit into this bucket. She grew up a Green Bay Packer fan, but it wasn’t to say she wasn’t respectful of Viking fans. But the HOA didn’t know this, and when they found out, those beginning months felt a bit hostile. She was verbally accosted and told she didn’t even belong in the HOA for even being associated with the Packers. Jaime didn’t understand this was a prerequisite to being a member, and it made her feel so bad that part of her just tried to be quiet. For the most part, she observed. She listened more than she talked and did her best to gain her HOA peers’ respect. But she was also human. It was hard for her to forget that initial reception even when things finally felt better. She never said anything; she retreated and tried to move forward. Unfortunately, the situation created a bit of paranoia for Jaime and possible resentment. Again, she was human. She admitted her very human ways, but at the same time, it’s shameful that it happened in the first place.

In the beginning, the HOA was disorganized and so chaotic that it took six months to get going. Eventually, the builder brought in a new President to reside over the HOA. There were many ideas and passionate people but ultimately growing frustration that nothing seemed to get accomplished.

Outside of the HOA, Jaime focused her efforts on other things. She had already started on the workings of a basket weaving class to improve the offerings at the community center. She was also heavily involved in efforts to try and get coats for everyone in the neighborhood. She believed that coats were necessary. After all, she lived in Minnesota, and winters get fucking cold. Would it completely solve the brutal winters? No, but it sure would go a long way to making things more comfortable when facing those long, never-ending winter months.

The President of the HOA promised that by the following year, everyone would have coats. Jaime celebrated! She admitted it might be a little out of scope, but it would help with the Snowplowing efforts in the winter. It would be a long time to wait, but by this time, she was invested. Those coats were going to help many neighbors.

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Jaime put her head down and committed to focusing on her basket weaving class creation. Although the further she got into it, she realized it had similar blueprints to a sewing class already operational. So she took her ideas to the owner of the sewing class.

The reception was cold. The owner of the sewing class almost seemed insulted that Jamie would imply the two classes had similarities. Her intent was not to offend anyone; it was to join forces. But the damage at that point was already done. The sewing class owner implied that people that chose the basket weaving class were lesser. They tended to be people that made poor decisions and did not deserve to be placed in the same category and skill level as sewing.

It was a ignorant statement and one that the sewing class owner would not be able to take back.

Jamie did take it personally. She knew many talented and incredible people who would sign up to take that basket weaving class. They weren’t lesser people. But Jamie wiped her tears and frustration and proceeded forward.

 continued….. Click here