For When You Feel Like You're Behind in Life

Lately I've been working with college students to open local chapters for The Letter Project. As I've met with them over coffee and FaceTime, I've thought a lot about myself at 20. What would Whitney at 20 think of Whitney at 30? Would I be surprised at how different my life looked than I’d planned? Would I be proud of the way I was living? Would I wonder what had happened to old friends, flings and plans?

I picture a 20-year-old version of myself walking through our little rental, running her hands along the white shelves, picking up photos from our honeymoon. Who is this guy? She’d wonder as she took in Chris. And what happened to John*? My on-again, off-again boyfriend from high school and part of college that I had, somehow, convinced myself could be forever.

I can’t believe you wore a poofy dress! She’d say as she flipped through our wedding photos. I always knew Katie and Sara would be in your wedding, she’d say as she smiled at my high school friends. But who are these girls? She’d point to my Atlanta friends, who are so dear to me now, deeply familiar faces, but whose names I didn’t even know when I was 20.

She’d walk back to the bedrooms and count just two. No nursery, huh? She’d say, unaware that we don’t even own the place. Where do all of the babies sleep? She’d ask as she held up the blueprint for the life I’d mapped out at 18. She’d note a little incomplete mark next to the plan I’d made for having three babies and owning a house in a little town by 30.

She’d probably start to worry then. She’d wonder how a girl from Indiana married a guy from Alabama and wound up in Georgia. She’d stress about traffic and crime and my ovaries. Her throat would tighten and she’d start to make a plan. There isn’t enough time left! She’d worry. She’d be mapping babies and budgets and home ownership before she’d even made it into the kitchen. 

But then, she’d watch Chris for a minute. She’d see the way he’s kind and gentle and unlike any other man I’d dated before him. She’d hear his southern drawl and warm laugh. She’d watch him tend to me, at 30, and her jaw would drop. Glad you got those bad boys out of your system, she’d say as she wondered how, just how, I’d snagged a guy like him. Because to be honest, I never really believed there was someone like Chris out there until he came into my life. 

She’d keep watching and taking it all in, a little more open minded now. She’d be proud of the way my faith had become important to me again. At 20, it was something I’d fallen away from. Not intentionally - it wasn’t a time of questioning, learning and exploring - which, honestly would have been better. It was a time of drinking and partying. I’d pushed down my faith with numbing agents - partying, perfectionism, food restriction and exercise. It wasn’t a time of growth but, instead, a time of ignoring what mattered most to me all along. I think she’d smile at the way my faith had strengthened in the latter half of my 20s. You’re not so different than you were at 18, are ya? She’d say as she turned on some old high school Jesus Jams. 

It’s an oversimplification, of course. She’d be unaware of the heartache I’d felt in my 20s - the singleness, the doubting, the waiting, the lack of control. She’d have no idea how much our family had grown - not just physically with babies and spouses (everywhere!), but also, emotionally. She wouldn’t see how hard we’d worked to be real and honest and vulnerable with each other, which are hard things to maintain when you’re spread out all over the country for a decade.

She wouldn’t understand how important friendships had become - how there is a narrowing that happens as you get older and the people still standing by your side at 30 mean something so much greater than a Saturday night at the bars in college. She’d be missing a decade of joy and growth and breaking free from fear and perfectionism.

She’d be missing so much of the good, the bad and the beautiful because she’d only see the little snapshots. 

As I thought about all of this, I realized that Whitney at 20 would initially be disappointed with how much I didn’t achieve, for lack of a better word, by 30. Perhaps she might even be a little judgmental. But she’d be wrong to be disappointed, because, what she wouldn’t have known then, is that when we stop white knuckling the dreams we once made, we make room for something greater.

When we stop trying to create the life we think we should have - the ones our friends, sisters or mamas have - and, instead, make room for the lives we really have - the ones that were designed, ornately and carefully, for us - is when we really find freedom. 

I’m trying to remember this today and every day. 

When I feel myself begin to worry about turning 31 in September, with no babes in sight… 
Or when I think through the fact that almost all of our friends own their homes and we rent…
When I feel like I’m in the thick of chaos with The Letter Project, unsure what to do next or what my longterm vision is…

In these moments, I remind myself that I am exactly where I need to be. This life is unfolding exactly as it should. There is something far greater than you could imagine planned for your life. The key is letting go just a little bit and making room for it to blossom. 

*Name changed to protect everybody's privacy (:

March Recap & April Goals

Sometimes, you behave like superwoman and post your goals on the first of the month, ready to report how well you did the 30 days prior. Other times? It's April 14 and you're just now getting around to it. Right now? It's Other Times. 

Such is life! We can't all be unicorns, some of us have to be normal human girls.

Today marks six months of The Letter Project and I cannot believe how much has changed or how quickly it has all happened. I feel so grateful for everyone who is a Letter Writer or supporting the project in another capacity. It has been amazing! So, thank you. So much! :) 

Here's how I did on my March goals:

1. Do our taxes! // Done! I felt so proud, I can't even explain it. 
2. Organize my external hard drive, Google photos, DropBox, etc. // Nope. It's kind of moving into the nice to have, not a priority zone. Eep. We'll come back to you later, Mr. Goal. 
3. Catch up on all of the Letter Requests that were submitted while we're in Kenya // They've all been posted - working on getting them mailed!
4. Blog about Kenya // Done(ish)
5. Figure out Chris' 30th birthday celebration :) // DONE. He turns 30 next week and I can't wait to celebrate that kid. He's so great.
6. Re-home Stu. // If you follow me on Insta you know (probably all too well) that Stu has gone off to Stu-niversity. Adele the Orchid has since moved into our home, not to replace him, but as a new friend. (For those of you who don't know Stu, he's a bamboo plant. His full name is Stu the Bamboo. Not to be confused with the more formal name, Stuart.)
7. Take on another freelance project. // Yes! It started this week and I'm really excited about it. 
8. Do a big Write Night at Emory with a sorority // Due to unforeseen circumstances, the sorority wasn't able to participate. But, it's OK. Things are in the works for the future. 
9. Do some sort of Writer appreciation (because they rock!) // Not yet. Stay tuned :) 
10. Host our first Letter Project themed birthday party for a 12-year-old girl. // Done! It was so wonderful. I hope to do many more!

A UNC win wasn't technically on my goal list this month, but it was an added bonus :) 

And now, on to April goals!:

1. Restart the process for obtaining my 501c3 for The Letter Project 

2. Launch a Campus and City Ambassador program for The Letter Project

3. Celebrate Chris Saxon's 30th birthday! 30 years of life for that man. I can't believe I've only known him for one 10th of it. I wish I could go back and know him all 30! 

4. Hire a summer intern 

5. Create a parking lot for business ideas. I feel like I have so many things I want to do for my business, but am not getting them done, because there are so many things I have to do. My goal is to get all of these ideas on paper and pick one or two to do each month for the rest of the year. That way I don't lose them altogether, but don't feel like I have to do them all at once. 

And, since there are only two weeks left this month, I think five goals is juuuust the right number. Happy Friday and happy happy happy EASTER! He is risen, y'all!

Three Little Things You Can do to Boost Your Mood

At the end of last week, I felt a little blah. Nothing bad was happening, but the weather was weird, I felt stressed and anxious and was just having #feelings in general. It was the kind of week where I reallllly wanted to blame hormones for the emotions, but couldn't. You know the kind. 

Anyway, there are a few little things I do to boost my mood when I'm having that kind of week. They're tiny, but I've found they really help me. I thought I'd share! 

1. Put your hair up into a ponytail

Oh the power of the high pony! In college, my friend Megan read that science (or at least Glamour?) had shown that a high ponytail can actually boost your mood if you're feeling down. We laughed at the time but, the truth is, they were right. If I'm sad and I pull my hair up, it instantly gives me a little pep. 

2. Raise your eyebrows or smile

Nothing grinds my gears more than when someone tells me to smile when I'm sad. I assure you, I would never tell you to do this as a way to mask your sadness. But, when you're just feeling kind of bleh or listless, try raising your eyebrows or smiling really big. I promise, it will make you feel better. 

3. Hum

This little song is Chris and my family song. What's a family song, you ask? Well, I'm not sure exactly, but we think we might sing it to our kids someday, so we call it our family song. Anyway, when I'm feeling a little sad, I like to hum it to myself. It makes me feel so peaceful. And, I think I probably sound just like Sam Cooke. 

And, if none of those things work, treat yourself to an extra coffee, turn on some music and call your bestie. :) 

Is Your Relationship with Food and Exercise Healthy?

I'm going to write the code for an eating disorder on your insurance form, my therapist told me one day as she looked at me very seriously, as if she were about to cry. 

I thought I was going to throw up. That couldn't possibly be the code she'd selected based on her assessment. I wasn't underweight. I didn't have an eating disorder. Sure, maybe I was a little too intense with exercise and restricted my food too much. But that seemed dramatic, for sure. 

No one will see it, right? I asked her flippantly, unwilling to match her sobriety. I felt exposed. I needed to take control here. 

It will just be used to process your insurance claim, she told me. But it's important for you to understand that, based on what you've told me, this is the accurate code. 

It's fine if you want to code it that way, I told her. I'm not sure I agree with you, but if it's the only code you can find, it's OK with me. 

She nodded seriously, gently. 

This is a stalemate, I thought as I held eye contact.

I left her office with my insurance form and looked at it over and over again. I'd gone to therapy to get over my ex-boyfriend and now, here I was, being told my relationship with food and exercise was unhealthy and obsessive. 

I never should have told her I'd lost my period, I thought as I signed up for a FlyWheel class.

I spent hours on her couch.

She was right. My relationship with food and exercise was no longer healthy. It had escalated and the degree to which I was restricting my food had gone too far. My body was breaking down. I had amenorrhea, the stomaches from my IBS had gotten out of control, my hair was brittle, I had insomnia and was calcium deficient. Exercise had taken over my life - all of my free time was spent either planning workouts or doing them. My diet consisted of about six foods because everything else had become, in my mind, "bad."

But I wasn't underweight. So I thought everything was fine.  

I am not a doctor (or anything in the medical field) and I understand, clinically, that there are differences between food restriction, disordered eating and an eating disorder. But, sometimes women who aren't underweight can have very unhealthy relationships with food and exercise and are overlooked because they don't check certain boxes when it comes to a clinical eating disorder.

What my experience taught me is that you don't have to be clinically diagnosed with anorexia or bulimia, to have a disordered relationship with food and exercise.

If you're wondering if your relationship with food and exercise is healthy, perhaps you could consider these questions:

1. Do you schedule each day to revolve around your workouts?
2. Is it your top priority to exercise daily, even if you're super busy, on vacation, sick, traveling, slammed at work, exhausted, etc...
3. Do you go to an early morning workout, even if you couldn't sleep the night before? 
4. Are you doing two workouts or more each day?
5. Do you workout before you meet a friend for a walk or run, just in case she doesn't want to go as hard as you?
6. Do you have entire food categories that are off limits because you think they're bad? (Think: bread, dairy, sugar, alcohol, desserts...) 
7. Have you convinced yourself you "don't like cheese" or "aren't really a sweets person" because you don't want to eat those things? Some people don't like cheese, I get that. But if you did a few years ago, cut it out, lost weight and now don't like it - do you actually like it? 
8. Are you obsessed with spicy foods because they boost your metabolism and make you drink more water at meals?
9. Do you feel panicked when someone asks you to go out to dinner because it's just so much easier to control what you eat when you cook it yourself? Do you want to lie to get out of it or, perhaps, attend the dinner but tell your friends you already ate?
10. Do you consistently miss your period? 

I can't reiterate enough that I am not here to give medical advice. But, if you find yourself nodding yes, yes, yes in agreement with these questions, I want to challenge you to think about your relationship with food and exercise. 

We live in a really dichotomous society that forces us to label everything. If we took away every label around eating disorders, where would you fall on the scale of an unhealthy to a healthy relationship with your body? Are you free? Or do you feel like you're being suffocated by the constant need to exercise and count calories? Does the idea of losing weight consume the majority of your thoughts? 

In our society, it's so normal for women to talk about wanting to lose weight and diet. I've noticed that we've all sort of adopted this mentality that being a little weight- and exercise-obsessed is OK. But it doesn't have to be this way. 

One day at lunch in college, a sorority sister was talking about a friend of hers who was always trying to lose weight. Wouldn't it be so sad if you were always trying to get skinnier? She said as she took a big bite of her grilled cheese. I mean, to always feel like you wanted to lose weight and were unhappy with your body would be so tiring. 

I was shocked at her words - not just at the flippancy - but that this was foreign to her. I didn't realize there were girls who didn't feel this way, I remember thinking as I pushed around my limp iceberg lettuce. 

I know now that it really doesn't have to be this way. These days, I still love to exercise and eat healthily. But, I've found freedom from them. If I eat a donut or miss a day of working out, I don't feel my chest tighten or my pulse begin to race. I don't read nutrition labels obsessively or feel panicked when I eat bread. I love veggies and ice cream and burgers and coffee. When I go out to dinner, I don't automatically order a salad; I order whatever sounds best in the moment. Kale is not my king.

But, I'm far from having a perfect relationship with my body. Anyone who has struggled with this topic knows that aiming for perfection is, in fact, the exact opposite of the end goal. The goal is healing and healing means learning to move with the rhythm of the world - not against it. Healing means understanding that some days will feel harder than others. Some days, the allure of exercising just a few more times (what's one more walk? that little voices asks) or the sense of control you get when you restrict your food will feel more tempting than on other days. 

Healing, for me, looks like asking for help when I need it. It means telling Chris when I need him to take a rest day with me for solidarity. It means admitting to a friend when I'm struggling with my relationship with my body. It means going to see my therapist when I find myself exercising just a little too much; when the allure of extra endorphins feels overwhelmingly tempting.

Most importantly, it means remembering, in these moments, to step back and take a deep breath. It means reminding myself that I don't want to live that way anymore - I want a life of freedom, not of restriction. It means affirming myself with the truthiest of truths:

Your worth is not in the number on the scale or on your pants. Your worth is not in how far you ran or how much you ate today. Your body is not valuable because it is tight and tiny. It is valuable because it is alive.