Finding the Pieces

The story of how a lost boy found home

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Father, husband, professor, writer, nerd.

  • The Joy of Work

    A common theme in my life right now is busyness. I spend nearly every waking moment working. Working on homework. Reading for school. Reading as a discipline to become a better reader, better writer, better scholar, and a better me. Working on my writing skills. Working on YouTube. Working on internships. Working at a gas station. Working on relationships. Working on communication. Working on gratitude. Working on patience.

    Yes, my life is filled with work. But I am becoming increasingly aware of how blessed I am to be working so much, because all of this work seldom feels like work. I get to spend my days bathed in words. I am constantly covered in thought and contemplation. When working at the gas station I am working towards saving up for a future and learning things I couldn’t learn in a classroom. All in all, what I do is what I love. What I do is who I am, who I am becoming. And that in itself is enough to fill me with pure joy.

    Yes, I am busy. Sometimes I am tired. Sometimes I am frustrated. Sometimes I need to be reminded of what it is I am working for. But at the end of it all I am happy. I am blessed. I am living the life that I would have never planned for myself. The life I had planned was so much different, but it was based on what the world told me was practical, not meaningful. God had a different plan, and only he could have planned for me such a life as rich and beautiful as this.

    Photo on 9-25-14 at 8.46 PM #2

  • Intentional Living: Finding Balance and Being a Role Model

    Now that we’re in the third week of classes and the dust of a new term has finally settled, I decided to take some time to write a new blog post. My schedule is kind of insane right now, but I need to remember to take time to do what I want to do. Don’t get me wrong, most of the time I actually do want to study and do my homework, but I also want to spend time writing and reading things that are not going to end up with a grade on them.

    I really wish I would have understood how important it is to do this a few years ago. The first few years of my college career were filled with stress, nonstop studying and homework, and little to no time for myself. Was this necessarily a bad thing? Not entirely. But there is so much more to life than school or work. Coming from the girl that is currently working close to 90 hours each week between homework, internships, and work, you would think I shouldn’t have much of a say on this topic, but I’m slowly learning what it means to live a balanced life.

    I knew that this term was going to be hard, but I went into it telling myself that I was going to find balance. Have I found that balance yet? Maybe not quite as much as I could, but I’m getting there. The first week of classes was a bit of a disaster. I was getting everything done, but my mind was racing constantly. I was forgetting to pack my lunch in the morning (or packing it but leaving it on the kitchen table). I put an empty pot on the stove to boil because apparently invisible coffee is more effective than boring old liquid coffee. In just one week my stress levels were alarmingly high, but did I notice? No. At least not until I realized I had been subconsciously clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth at night because of all of the stress. I told myself I was going to find balance this term, and I had done everything but that during the first week of classes.

    To make my brain comprehend that taking breaks is a good thing, I’ve scheduled into my day times when I am not allowed to study. At all. It almost physically hurts if I try this for much more than an hour at a time, but guess what? After consistently making myself take breaks this last week, my stress level has significantly decreased. I feel calmer. My thoughts aren’t racing quite as often as usual. And I don’t feel like I have a migraine in my face. I’m still putting empty pots on the stove and dumping water in trash bins, but I blame that on early mornings rather than stress.

    So as I try to figure out how to balance work and self-care, I’m finding that I’m doing it for more than just my own health. I’ve been hyper aware of the fact that I’m moving out of the country in one year, so I want to be spending time with my family and friends. Most of the people in my life would agree with me in saying that during the school year I have a tendency to forget to reply to messages and cancel coffee dates like I’ve developed an allergy to social interaction. This term I’m trying to make time to actually spend time with the people I love.

    But aside from working on my social life, I’ve discovered something kind of strange recently: I am supposed to be a role model. This is my last semester as a college senior, and I’m just now noticing that younger students are paying attention to what I’m doing. They are asking me questions about homework and essays. They are asking me about study abroad opportunities and want to hear all about Oxford. A few even want to know about my internships and career plans as an English major. When I first realized this I told my friend Amy how strange this felt to me and how I was just realizing that I might actually have an influence on people. She laughed a little bit, but then said something that kind of caught me off guard: “I have news for you, dear. You already have an influence on a ton of people. You just have a chance to be intentional about it now.”

    A chance to be intentional. Intentional influencing? If someone would have come up to me as a 17 year old college freshman and said “people are going to look up to you some day” I would have laughed and thought they were crazy. I’m supposed to be the introverted book worm who is afraid of speaking in front of more than five people. Or at least I used to be. But the last four years have given me so many wonderful gifts, and if I can use those areas of growth to be a good role model for people that are still trying to figure out what college is for, then I should be intentional about it. And maybe living a balanced life is one key to being a positive influence on others.

    So, if you are reading this and you happen to be a college freshman, a high school student who is thinking about life after high school, or anyone that is just trying to figure out how to find balance like I am, here are a few things I’ve learned (in no particular order of importance) that I wish someone would have told me a few years ago:

    1. There is nothing wrong with imperfection – We are human. We don’t do perfect. The sooner you realize this the better. It wasn’t until I was able to stop obsessing over grades and writing perfect essays that I was able to start enjoying school and enjoying life in a new way. We are works in progress, and that’s okay.

    2. No one has ever died from speaking up* – This was a huge issue for me until maybe a year and a half ago. Whether it was giving a speech in class, going to a professor or supervisor about an issue I was having, or just joining a conversation, I used to be terrified of my own voice. I’m still a proud introvert, but I’m not afraid to speak up anymore, and because of it I am able to learn better, problem solve more efficiently, and communicate effectively.

    3. You don’t need a ten-year plan to be successful – Yes, having a plan is good. Going to college only to find out four years later that you have no idea what you are going to do with your degree is not good. So what am I saying? Know that university is not for everyone. Know that changing your major is okay (just try not to do it ten times then end up with a degree in soul-searching). Know that you will find what you want to do in the right time, and if you end up changing careers ten years later that that’s okay, too. It took me almost two years to decide I wanted to major in English, but I didn’t know I wanted to teach at a university until my senior year.

    4. Study – Yes, sleep and friends are important, too. And even though I needed to learn how to take a break from studying once in a while, I have seen too many friends regret their decisions to avoid studying until their GPA’s gave them a panic attack. University is supposed to be the place where you prepare yourself for life and a career, so paying attention to the work that gets you there is kind of a big deal. Have fun, but remember that you are paying for this degree, so make it worth the investment.

    5. Have fun – Relax. Make friends. Go to sporting events or join a club. Read a book that isn’t on a textbook list. Write a blog. Have coffee with a friend. If you love something, do it. This kind of goes with the previous point, but in a different way. To study well you need to be healthy, so take care of yourself. I’m working on this one a lot right now, and I am already seeing a huge difference in the way I feel.

    I’m not an expert on how to survive life and college, but I have had plenty of wonderful friends and mentors over the last four years who have given me these pieces of advice, so I thought I should pass them on. I’m still trying to get used to the idea that I have any influence over anyone, but I think for now I’ll just focus on trying to live an intentionally balanced life, do what I love, and hopefully a little bit of positive influencing will happen as a result.

     

    *Though I changed the wording a little bit, I got this from one of my professors. She teaches a speech class, and she has said many times that no one has ever died from public speaking, and I thought it was a great way to help people see that speaking up isn’t as bad as we make it out to be

  • Waiting

    We live in a world of instant gratification. Why send a handwritten letter if you can get a text in a few seconds? Why spend hours in the library pouring over books if you can find the answer you’re looking for by typing in a few words into a search engine? Living in a world that is moving faster and faster, it makes sense that we might be losing a little bit of our patience. I’m definitely just as guilty as the next person. I struggle with patience and waiting, though lately I’ve started to understand just how important waiting is. 

    When I got home from Oxford I felt a deep longing for the place that became my home. All I wanted was to be back in the city of spires and books, but I didn’t want to wait to return, I wanted to be there now. What I’ve come to realize over the last year, however, is that, as hard as waiting is, it has a purpose. I’ve been back for almost nine months and, if everything goes as planned, I have more than a year until I will go back to England. That vast time gap used to seem so unbearable, and sometimes it still feels too long. But in this waiting and longing I’ve been reminded that God has a plan and that there is value in waiting.

    For starters, waiting forces us to give up our own selfish desires and remember that it is God that is in control, not us. I remember being a very eager 17 year old, just entering my first year of college, and I thought I knew just where my life was going. I was going to be a journalist at some big metropolitan area newspaper. Or so I thought. I found out later that God had another plan, but I wasn’t going to understand that plan or even know what it was until I was able to say “Okay, God, I’m listening. I need you to take control of my life. Take my feet. Take my hands. Take my tongue. Use them to glorify you.” And then He made me wait.

    And that waiting period in my life, that time where I had no idea what I was supposed to do with my life, was so hard but so fulfilling. In the waiting I found peace. In the waiting God helped me grow. He was preparing me for something so wonderful. He was preparing me for Oxford, the place where I finally found home. The place I found myself and my calling. But then He took Oxford away, and I didn’t understand.

    Why was He making me wait again? I see now what I have to do. I understand my calling. Isn’t that what I wanted? Isn’t that what I prayed for? Well, yes. But again I’m struggling to trust. I’m struggling to find peace. I’m struggling in this time of waiting. My prayer for months has been “Lord, let me hear you. Let me feel you. Help me to be content in the waiting.” I’m trying. I want to trust that He has a plan. And some days I feel at peace. Some days I am okay with the waiting. But other days I’m not okay. But then I am reminded of what I’m waiting for. Today I had one of those reminders as I was reading Blood Brothers by Elias Chacour. This book is for a class I’m taking this fall. I was not expecting it to give me a spiritual epiphany, but as I read these words tonight tears came to my eyes: 

    I felt a familiar thrill. To me it was like the comfortable silence between friends, a moment of quiet when nothing needs to be said—when you simply dwell in the warmth and joy of each other’s presence. Yes, that’s what I felt—that familiar presence… I was reliving, in a split second, those endless days when it seemed that I was actually walking alongside my childhood Companion, Jesus. Unmistakable, I felt a rush of joy stirring in my spirit.

    I sat in this inner silence, swaddled in the feeling that in this place…I was home. Here, in this presence.

    Chacour’s experience of discovering a home and a calling looked a lot different than my story, but these words felt like something I could have written when I was in Oxford. There I found an inner peace. And when I read these words I remembered what it was like to be home. And then I remembered that I have a Heavenly Father who has a plan. I remembered that He does not have us wait for nothing. I don’t know why I must wait for England now, but I know there has to be a reason, even if all it is is to remind me to put my life in His hands. So I will wait, and I will rest in His presence. And I will continue to pray “Take my feet. Take my hands. Take my tongue. Use them to glorify you. And teach me to wait in your presence.” 

  • Trying to Understand

    I just watched a video of Kajieme Powell being shot by police in St. Louis, Missouri, and I’m shocked. I don’t know what I was expecting when I clicked ‘play’ on the video. But what I saw made my stomach drop and my eyes burn. This wasn’t the usual witness account with a shaky camera angle that is questionable in credibility at best. It wasn’t particularly blurry and it didn’t cut to the ground when something happened.

    In the video I saw a man who had made some bad choices. I saw a man who was visibly frustrated and angry with the police. He approached the police and continually told them to “shoot me, just shoot me,” as he walked towards them with a knife, Do I think he chose the best way to make his voice heard? Not exactly. Do I think he needed to be calmed down or detained in some way? Yes, probably. But even though I read the headline and I knew what was going to happen, I still jumped and turned my head when 15 seconds after the officers arrived they shot their guns and Powell fell to the ground. 

    With everything going on in Missouri and New York right now with questions of brutality and accountability of police officers, there have been plenty of voices chiming in online and elsewhere. I haven’t spoken up about any of this yet, at least until now. It would be easy to take one side or the other. But the fact is that it’s not that simple. I wish it was. But there are so many facts that are twisted and made up and so many things left out, so how are we supposed to know what’s right?

    In the case of Michael Brown there are several eyewitness accounts that move us to believe one side of a story. Then there are the police statements that move us to believe another. Right now I’ve taken the position that I wasn’t there so I can’t say what happened, but I can say one thing: any time any life is lost we should be grieving. Whether Michael Brown did something wrong or not, he shouldn’t have died. Whether Kajieme Powell was wrong or not he should not have been gunned down in the street. I realize that I’m not a police officer and my life has never been put in danger in that type of capacity, but there is something deep inside me that wants so badly to believe that when a gun is fired by an officer that it should be completely warranted and never to kill. 

    Maybe I’m too naive. I know I don’t have all the answers. But I do know that people have died at the hands of those that are supposed to keep us safe. I’m not saying that every single police officer is corrupted. I know that bad judgment calls happen, we are human. But that doesn’t make the death of anyone okay. So I guess what I’m trying to say, in my own confused, frustrated, and heartbroken way, is this: instead of worrying about picking sides and arguing about who was right or who was wrong, let’s try listening to each other. Let’s try recognizing that, Innocent or guilty, human lives have been lost and each case is a tragedy. Let’s try loving each other. Maybe then we can start to make things a little bit better. 

  • Unfiltered: Breaking Barriers and Nerding Out

    Tonight I decided that I needed to clean my desk before I got any internship work done. Like all of my other big projects, this turned into about seven smaller projects, but at least this time I actually finished most of them. All I wanted to do was put the scattered papers into a neat pile to make room for my laptop, but instead I ended up pulling out each and every piece of paper, notebook, and folder to go through and examine before deciding which of the several piles it needed to go in. Sure, a five minute task took me two hours, but my desk is clean, my binders are organized for school, and my written portfolio has been updated. And now I can sit at my desk and actually get some work done without being distracted by the clutter. I have a few candles lit, the Lord of the Rings Soundtrack is playing quietly in the background, and I’m happy.

    And while a clean desk is often enough to put me in a better mood, that’s not the only reason I’m smiling tonight. While I was going through my pile of papers and notebooks, I found an old moleskin journal I forgot I even had. I didn’t even remember what it was used for, so I started thumbing through the pages. There were brainstorm entries for this blog. A few lists of YouTube ideas. A schedule for blog posts last summer. But in the middle of all these lists and schedules, there was one journal entry. I figured I must have just used it as a journal when I couldn’t find my actual journal, but no. I had intended to use that journal, apparently because I wanted to talk about the recent frustration I had been dealing with because of writer’s block.

    I almost stopped reading the entry to move on to a notebook that caught my eye, but instead I read on. The rest of the entry didn’t have a whole lot to do with writing or YouTube. But the words I had written made me smile, not because they were happy words, but because I looked at the date alongside them and knew what happened just a few months later. Here’s a section of the entry:

    This may sound strange, but I feel like I’m not living my life as fully as possible, at least in terms of expressing the way my mind functions. I don’t think the way most of my friends think, so I’m always filtering myself. I only speak what I think others might find interesting, and even then I still feel that only a few people actually listen to and appreciate my line of thinking. I think I might be a closeted nerd. I hold back the things that no one else cares about.

    I just want someone to nerd out with. Someone who likes the same things I like. Someone who I can be myself with and not feel like I’m boring them to death. If only I could find one person, maybe I might not feel so trapped inside my own thoughts.

    This entry was written in the spring of last year, just before two kind of important things happened to me: YouTube and Oxford. Vlogging on YouTube was kind of the first step in helping me see that I had a voice, and I made some amazing friends while doing it last summer. But then Oxford happened, and that’s where I finally understood what it was like to be me, unfiltered. And now that I’m back in Michigan and haven’t had the time to vlog as often, I’m still in a pretty good place. I’ve finally seen what it’s like to let those barriers down, and I’m not afraid to be who I am anymore.

    Having learned how to just be me is such a blessing, but it’s not what I’m smiling about. I’m smiling because I didn’t just get my wish. I’m smiling because I wanted one person to understand me, one person that I could just be me with. And I can just imagine God seeing me write that entry last year, possibly even laughing a little bit, and saying “Just wait. You want just one? I’m going to give you so much more than that.”

  • Growing Pains: It’s Okay to Not be Okay

    I need to be honest about something: I’m not always okay. For the most part I try to keep a positive mindset, especially in this blog and on YouTube. Even when things are a little hard, I try to find something positive. Many of my close friends half-joke that I could be covered in boils, go bankrupt, and get hit by a double decker bus all in one day and still find a way to say “but it’s okay.” Because for the most part I do know that everything is going to be okay, even if it feels like it won’t be.

    The problem with this insistence of being okay, though, is that sometimes I’m actually not okay, and sometimes it’s kind of hard to admit that. Well, I’m admitting it now. I’m struggling. I’m terrified that I’ve taken on too many things and I don’t know if I can get them all done. People will ask “well why did you agree to do all of this, then?” My answer? Because I’m an idiot. Or, more accurately, because if I don’t have a million things to do I will go insane. The problem with this is that when I do have a million things to do I go insane, just in a different way. One of my many flaws is that I struggle with balance.

    So right now I’m working 24 hours a week at a job I kind of loathe but am thankful for because it comes with a paycheck. I’m working on finishing up three internships, two of which offer little to no structure which makes me feel like I’m flailing around without a lifejacket on. I’m trying to get ready for possibly the hardest semester of my college career outside of Oxford. I’m supposed to be working on applying for grants for grad school. I’m trying to maintain the relationships that actually do keep me sane, but I feel like no matter what I do I fall short.

    I don’t want to only see the negative things in my life right now, though. So even though I’m admitting that I’m really stuck in this crappy mindset, I want to find the positive. For starters, my resume is going to look pretty great at the end of these internships. Better than that, though, is the fact that I’m getting great experience and I’m learning a lot. And even though this semester is going to be hard, I’m so excited for it to start. I can’t wait to sit in my World Lit class and discuss C.S. Lewis’s Till We Have Faces, Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country, and the six other books on the book list. I can’t wait to make it through exams in December and come out of it with my degree. And even though I’m struggling to get everything done, to focus long enough to do it all and do it well, I have wonderful people in my life who are trying to help me do better by setting reminders and helping me structure it all when I can’t seem to figure out how to do it on my own.

    I’m human, and that kind of means I’m not perfect. I’m going to mess up. I’m trying to be better, though. I’m trying to let myself be honest and recognize that sometimes it’s okay to not be okay. Because right now things are hard, but I know that at some point I’ll be able to look at this time, laugh at my flawed perception of the time I actually have, and hopefully see how it helped me grow. And because I have a wonderful support system through my friends and family. And because even when I’m tired and frustrated and feel like I’m failing, I can rest in the knowledge that I have a God that tells me he loves me no matter how many times I screw up. He’s still here, and even if I have no clue what’s going on, he does. This is just a time of growth, and growing pains suck. But they’re worth it.

     

  • Balance is a Tricky Thing

    Apparently I have a problem with balance. I’m not talking about physical balance and the ability to not fall over on a daily basis, though I do occasionally struggle with that kind of balance as well. The kind of balance I’m talking about is life balance (if that wasn’t a thing before, I’m making it one now). I’m sure most of you know what I’m talking about. As adults we have a lot of things that we’re expected to do: go to work or school, pay the bills, run all of the errands, maintain relationships with your friends and family, exercise, eat well, and the list I’m sure is actually never-ending. Oh, and we’re also supposed to sleep at some point between all of these things.

    Right now I’m trying to balance a bit more than I’m used to. I want to start out by saying that I am not complaining about all of my responsibilities. I like being an adult. Most days. I like that I have a job and three internships. I love that I have friends that I love and get to talk to, Skype, and write good old fashioned letters to. I’m so happy that I have a family I get along with most of the time and enjoy hanging out with.  I also enjoy being a college student. Just because it’s summer doesn’t mean I don’t have things to work on for school, and my school work is a source of (mostly) joy rather than stress. The problem, however, is that I have no idea how to properly split these things up, and it’s getting to be a bit of a problem.

    This last week I feel like I’ve been running around to get things done, yet somehow I feel like I’ve made very little progress. I’m behind on my internship projects. I need to be reading more for school. I haven’t talked to some of my friends as often as I would like to. But I promise I’m not spending my days staring at YouTube and Buzzfeed. I think I’m just having a hard time discerning how much time I need to put into each task. I’ve been told that struggling with balance is a common thing that adults with ADHD struggle with, but I don’t want to point a finger at ADHD every time I’m struggling.

    I didn’t want this blog post to be one giant rant or complaint. If anything I wanted to vent a little bit, but to also emphasize that even though I’m a bit stressed right now, I’m still very blessed. I have a job that comes with a paycheck, three great internships that are making my resume look awesome, and amazing friends that love me even when my life gets a bit hectic and I forget to Skype them. Life is crazy, but that’s okay, I kind of like the challenge.

    Question of the Day: Do you struggle with maintaining balance in your life? Whether you do or not, comment below what you think works in making balance and easier goal to reach. 

  • Finding Home: Decisions, Goodbyes, and Calming Assurance

    When I was about eight years old I told my parents that I was going to be a missionary some day and live in some exciting country that was not America. To be fair, this happened about three days after throwing a going away party for family friends who were leaving to enter the mission field, and I thought that was pretty awesome. So even though I’m not planning on entering the mission filed anytime soon, I’ve still managed to hold on to the goal of moving out of the U.S., and in about fourteen months I’m planning to move to England. The funny thing about this, though, is that the thought of leaving isn’t quite as simple as I thought it would be when I was a kid.

    The first (and last) conversation I ever had with my friends about my wish to live abroad stands out crisply in my mind, even though I was 12 when it happened. There were four of us, we were in seventh grade, and this meant that we weren’t sixth graders anymore so we could claim a corner of the jungle gym to sit and talk without anyone telling us we were in their way. That day we decided to take the spot right above the less popular of the two slides. Like most of our conversations, the topics of the day centered around the boys in our classes, the upcoming drama production, and how much we loved having our own lockers that year.

    Soon we were talking about what we wanted to do when we grew up, and our answers ranged from marine biologists to teachers, except mine. When I declared my goal of living abroad after college (yes, I knew I was going to go to college), all but one of them looked at me like I was crazy. The questions flooded through and I was overwhelmed with their reactions: “But why would you want to live anywhere but Michigan?”, “What about your family?”, and “Are you crazy? What if your husband doesn’t want to move to a different country?”

    At the time I was a bit too young to understand why my friends reacted in such a way, but, looking back now, I can see where they were getting these concerns. You see, I come from a place and a particular section of American culture that says building families in the community you grew up in is a good thing. Most of my extended family lives within three hours of each other. As a girl, I received a few concerned looks when I declared that I wasn’t getting married straight out of high school, and when I insisted I wasn’t a hopeless case I was usually met with smiles and bobbing heads that said “this poor girl is doomed to a life of celibacy.”

    I want to be clear and make sure you know that I am not saying that there is anything wrong with staying in the same community your whole life. There is nothing wrong with getting married young and starting a family. College is not for everyone, and I know this. Community building is so important, and we need strong relationships and cooperation to do that. But I also know that not everyone is called to the life their parents lived, and I know that I’m one of those mold breakers. I love the community I have grown up in, but isn’t it possible for me to be part of a community outside of this one? Maybe even a community that I can serve better than the one I am in now?

    But just because I’m moving to England doesn’t make this easy. When I came home from Oxford I would have done anything to go back, and I’m still looking forward to moving there for more than a semester. I actually had a really hard time readjusting to living in America the first few months of this year, and I’d be lying if I told you I was happy to be home. When I found out I was accepted to my grad program of choice, all I kept thinking was “I get to go home,” but this time ‘home’ wasn’t Michigan.

    But now the post acceptance-letter high is wearing off, and I’ve been left with a strange mixture of doubt and assurance. I know that England is where I found home. I know that it’s where I’m supposed to go next year. But now that I’m leaving for more than a few months, I’ve found myself realizing how much I really do love Michigan. I’m seeing things in a strange and hazy new light, and I think it’s a good thing, but it’s making me question my decision. I wonder what will happen if my mom or brother need me and I’m on a completely different continent, so I’ve been trying to spend more time with them. I think of not getting to hug my grandparents each week, so I’m finding excuses to stay the night at their house. I’m appreciating the Saturday nights with my cousin more than I ever have. I’m even hugging my dog more than usual.

    I know how strange this might sound to you, I mean I do have over a year until I leave. But this isn’t a little decision, it’s one that changes everything. Night after night I’ve asked God “are you sure? Am I making the right decision? Is there anything that can keep me in Michigan, even for just a little bit longer?” But every time I ask I’m met with a calm assurance that everything will be okay, and I have to trust that this is true. I am so excited to move to England. I’m terrified. But I’m ready, even if I still have to remind myself daily that I am.

  • Staying Accountable: Losing Weight One Failure or Success at a Time

    I know I’ve mentioned this in just about every single post I’ve written about losing weight, but I’m going to say it again: losing weight is not easy. So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I’m going to tell you a little secret. There is something that can make losing weight, or just living healthier, so much easier: accountability.

    I pride myself in my ability to be fairly self-motivated, but for some reason my brain is lacking in this area when it comes to working out. For the most part I can keep myself away from soda and brownies, but I have a really hard time getting myself to stop reading Harry Potter and start doing some sit-ups. There is, however, something I’ve found that keeps me moving, and that’s having something or someone other than myself to keep me accountable. To a certain extent this blog has allowed me to have a feeling of accountability to myself and anyone who reads it. When I make YouTube videos I feel more motivated to actually work out so that I have good footage to prove I’m more than just talk. But the best motivating force for me has come from accountability partners, someone that is working alongside me to be healthy, too.

    Last year it was one of my YouTube friends. We talked a lot on Facebook and Skype, and when one of us didn’t want to go running or biking, we would agree to work out at the same time, even though we were thousands of miles away from each other. There were even times when he would refuse to talk to me until I worked out, and guess what? It worked. I was in the best shape of my life last summer because of that friendship.

    When the nature of that friendship changed focus, I found myself working out less and less. But over the last few months my friend Amy and I have been keeping each other accountable since we’ve been home from Oxford, and I can’t tell you how great it feels to have an awesome friend who also just happens to want to be healthy, too. We were talking this afternoon, and I mentioned that I needed to work out but wasn’t exactly feeling up to is. So she suggested that we work out at the same time.

    We live about 500 miles apart and are in different time zones, but it worked. At 1:30 my time, 12:30 her time, we logged onto Facebook, told each other what we were doing for our workouts, then said good luck and got working. Before we started, though, she sent me this wonderful video that made me smile and a little happy to actually get a little sweaty:

    After watching this I figured that if a hefty and happy stuffed bear could workout, so could I (though maybe with a little more sweat and a little less honey)

    Having someone to keep you accountable will make your healthy choices a lot easier to make. Whether it’s from the kind words of encouragement or a few loving yet firm warnings to get your butt out of bed, having someone to keep you motivated and accountable is one of the best things you can have while you’re trying to lose weight. I know that without my friends and family members cheering me on these last few years I would probably still weigh nearly 400 pounds (or more) and still have a personal vendetta against staircases. I’m so glad that isn’t the case now.

    So if you’ve been struggling to make healthy choices or get out and start exercising, find someone to do it with you or cheer you on as you work towards you goals. If you can’t think of anyone to be that accountability partner for you, just let me know – I’ll be more than happy to be that person.

  • The Cost to Breathe

    I’m not usually one to complain, at least I try not to be. But a few nights ago I had a conversation with my mom that we’ve had more than once, and every time I’m left with a wall of tears begging to be released from behind my eyes. You see, a few years ago I was diagnosed with asthma. The first year and a half felt like a constant battle to figure out how to stop the attacks and what combination of medications would be the solution.

    After losing the first fifty pounds and getting a decent plan put in place with my doctor, I was starting to feel almost normal again. I could run across the house to retrieve a forgotten item without reaching for air. I was no longer afraid of single flights of stairs. But now I’m afraid to lose that so simple yet so vital luxury that is breathing. Not because I’m sick or because my lungs are getting any worse (at least not that I know of.) It’s because I’ve run out of the two preventative inhalers that are so key in my asthma plan, and for the last few months I’ve been relying on my rescue inhaler. The reason for this? Even though I have health insurance, I can’t afford the preventative inhalers even though I know I need them. And a few nights ago, after coughing and searching for something more than a half-breath, I reached for my inhaler, and my stomach turned to knots as I realized that this inhaler, my last rescue inhaler, was almost empty.

    Did you know that Albuterol, an asthma medication that has been around for nearly 50 years, can cost anything between $50 and $100 in the U.S., even though it used to cost $15 before it was repatented? So you can imagine my shock when I was told that I only had to pay £7 (roughly $12) for one inhaler when I was in England, and that was with no prescription coverage on my health insurance at the time. I was sure there had to have been some kind of mistake. But there wasn’t. The prices of asthma medications in the U.S. are on the rise, as reported in this New York Time’s article last October, and the result is no less than terrifying.

    I can deal with being a bit more out of breath than usual, but what happens if I have an asthma attack? The thought of ER trips, nebulizer treatments, and constant doses of prednisone (the steroid from hell), flood my thoughts as my lungs grow more tired. Conversations with my mom – her telling me I need to be on my other inhalers, me protesting that we can’t afford them – are sure to become more frequent. The result of the last conversation ended in my mom ordering my inhalers, me promising I’d pay her back.

    I’ll be okay. Eventually I’ll be able to afford my meds. But what about that kid whose parents can’t scrape together the money to pay for his inhaler? What about the high school student who just wants to play soccer but can’t because her parents aren’t sure if they can foot the ER bill if she has an asthma attack? I don’t know enough about the politics of health care so I won’t get into that right now, but I do want to say that it’s important. Breathing is kind of important. And it’s not okay that some people simply refuse to see a doctor because they’re more afraid of a crippling medical bill than the possible consequences of not being treated at all. I know that a free-for-all health care isn’t the answer, but I also know that it’s not okay that drugs that have been around for decades and cost next-to-nothing to manufacture are being sold for more than they are worth, simply because a company decided they wanted to make a bigger profit.