For Me.

I like to push myself.

What started off as a simple movement to not be fat and look better in my clothes has turned into an obsession that is so much more beyond fitting into a size four. Exercise is something that I’ve found that legitimately makes me happy. Sure, it sucks when your heart rate is way up there and you’ve done push-ups to failure, but damn does it feel good to be able to power through. A P90X grad, I just finished Day 2 of Insanity. All I have to say is “Ow” and “keeping bringing it.”

I’ve yo-yo-ed with weight all my adult life. I am 65.5 inches, and I probably graduated high school between 145-150 pounds. I’ve been up to at least 178. If I ever hit 180, it was at a point where I was unwilling to step on a scale, but it’s quite possible I did get that high. I’ve been down to 135. Right now I am at 145, and would like to drop about 10 pounds, but am honestly in the best shape of my life. I turn 31 in less than a month.

When I started law school a little over 2.5 years ago I was at a high point weight wise. A year of commuting long distances to work had taken its toll. I biked to class. By December I got my ass onto an elliptical machine, and by March I was noticing some results. I was down to about 162 then, and feeling much better about myself. People were noticing a change. I kept trying to do it on my own, but I hit a plateau at 155-57 and got stuck there. Surprisingly a week of binging in Las Vegas was all I needed to kick start my metabolism and get down to 152-53. A one week no-carb fad in April of 2010 dropped me down to 143, when I went off I went up to 147, but still stayed below 150. Excitement.

Then in May my [expletive] of an ex left his P90X DVDs with me. He’d been carrying them around for a year, each month saying “Next time you see me, I’m gonna look so different baby. I’m gonna get p90x ripped.” (Never happened.) So, I set out to do what he had failed at: getting through the program. I am a stubborn girl: I did it. At the end of 90 days I had only lost about 5 pounds, but I had gone from a size 10, to a 4/6. My clothes literally started falling off. P90X has a lot of strength workouts built in, so my lean muscle mass probably accounted for the minimal weight loss. But, what I was most proud of was my newfound ability to do pull-ups. At the beginning of the summer, I couldn’t even bed my arms a little to try to do one. Now, I do pull-ups.

And, Insanity. It burned yesterday. I was tough to get going today: still sore from the fit test and yesterdays workout, but I did it. Tomorrow’s video is called “Cardio Recovery” — lets hope its true to its name. This kind of extreme fitness is NOT for everyone. It just isn’t. Healthy lifestyles come in all sorts of forms, and I don’t talk about it to try to prosthelytize anyone into trying out Beachbody workouts. Seriously. Pushing myself to new levels is something that I enjoy, and not everyone would enjoy that. It’s personal. But, I write about it here because it has been a journey and something that has shaped how I feel about myself. This morning as I moving through a very difficult workout, I realized just how good for me the workouts are — and I don’t mean physically, I mean emotionally.

 

Get out of my head already.

I am over Matt. Really. Despite having bought a ring and plans for a future with marriage and kids and the whole thing, he dumped my via email in early September, and wouldn’t even give me the courtesy of a phone call for closure. My reaction was intense. We’re talking an emotional response so severe that physically my body and mind started to break down. My roommate found me prostrate on the floor more than once. My friends were worried about me because I was not myself.

He broke me.

But, my friends put me back together. A couple of nights of karaoke with an amazing friend singing Wrong Baby Wrong, which was perfect. And the karaoke dj dedicating Brick House just to me, also perfect. The legal principle of abandoned property and a roommate that convinced me that his DVD player needed to be smashed by a sledge hammer. Friends who could get great use out of all the craftsman tools and brand new clothes he had left behind. (FN: As one insightful acquaintance put it, I was dating a “carny.” He had no home and worked on the road, what he didn’t want to carry lived in my basement.) A completely unserious rebound that lasted for most of October that was just enough to show me that real men do exist even if this one didn’t particularly capture my heart. And, I was feeling like myself again for the first time in a long time.

The biggest tragedy here is probably not the two weeks that I needed medication to counter the occasional panic attack, but that this guy was not good to me most of the time and the relationship was one trigger that lead to a depression more than a year long.

But, sometimes we hold on to those brief happy moments just a bit too hard, and we forget how every fight is my fault, and we forget that if there is a compromise to be made it is mine to make. I failed to take notice that the single most important person to Matt, was Matt. Despite having an elementary school age son who never got to see him. Matt made choices that kept him far away and unable to even get to him, yet thought he was being a good dad. Who knows what his definition of “good boyfriend” or “good husband” would have been, but yeah I am so much better off without him. And, I completely realize that.

So, why on earth did I have a random memory from a mall food court in Montreal last night? The one cool thing about my relationship with him, was that because of his carny status I had an excuse to go to places like Montreal, Monterrey, Seattle, Las Vegas. If he was in a cool city and I was free, I went. The Montreal food court was a happy memory from a day off. If it’s possible to know less than zero words in a language, that’s about my proficiency in French. I needed him to help me answer questions like, “What would you like to drink?” On this day, we were smiling and laughing and really close. As we meandered through the mall, occasionally he would grab me just to give me a big bear hug and tell me how happy he was.

Even the drive to Montreal from London, Ontario was fun. Police cars in Canada have construction company like arrows that rise up from their roofs to direct passing traffic to stay away. There are pictures of me in pig tails (all pictures of him have been removed from my computer), and we had some traditional Canadian fare at a random truck stop on the way. He could have flown, but he chose to take the car ride with me.

Yet, he ended things by telling me to “never contact him again.” I didn’t do anything. We didn’t have a fight. I didn’t cheat, or call him a name, or do anything that would have made him angry enough to say that to me. But, he called me childish, and texted those exact words: Never contact me again; I mean it. Two months later when he told me to mail him his stuff but not to call him, his property was gone. Not in my possession any more. I actually did not expect to ever hear from again. The text read: I need my[stuff] ASAP. Don’t call me.

Classy, right? We sent some exchanges. I told him I never expected to hear from him again, and that the way he bowed out did not make me want to do him any favors. I asked that he delete my number. He called me an emotional cripple and a C***. Dodged a bullet, right? Right.

Which is why it bothers me so much that stupid GOOD memory would pop into my head six months later. Seriously. I got as much closure as one could get out of the situation, but being reminded that everything wasn’t bad does make looking back all the more confusing. I am not emotional about this today. It didn’t reopen any wounds. Those are all more or less healed. But still. A friend and I sometimes talk about the subconscious and how weird it is the stuff that pops up in dreams, or when you least expect it. I’ve always bragged about having a good memory. And, I wouldn’t trade that for anything. But still.

See title.

 

Hallmark Holidays

So, I’m single. The last two V-Days were spent not single, though each of those were certainly more disappointing than this one. (Actually, that’s not true. Two years ago my boyfriend was working on a cruise ship, and I had girls over for a delightful evening of fajitas and chick flicks.)

But the point of this story is that today I realized that it is quite likely that its the nature of relationships that make individuals afraid to be alone. For over a year and a half I was “in a relationship” with a guy I never saw. He worked on the road, and we only spent time together about once a month – at best. He called every night, he came to visit on breaks, but for the most part I was alone, yet everyone knew I was “in a relationship.” What does that mean?

Well, for starters, this Valentines Day I got not one, but multiple Happy Valentines Day wishes. (My closest friends just said Happy Hallmark Holiday, or some equivalent thereof – because really, I’ve never been into Valentines). Last night my roommate’s boyfriend even brought me flowers. One friend, knowing I’ve been sick emailed an offer of soup. Another friend bought me Dairy Queen. It’s actually been a while since I’ve gotten this much attention on a Valentines Day. The last time was a rather unfortunate and awkward incident in high school where two different boys showered me with flowers and stuffed animals. The point is, I guess when you are “in a relationship” people just assume you’re being taken care of. But when you are single, friends don’t necessarily make that assumption and they reach out to remind you that you are loved. They check in to see if you need anything.

In the last month or so, I’ve really been able to see who my true friends are. I might have been letting myself slip quietly into a depression where I worried that as my mom gets older that I would one day be alone. But that is just not true. I have some stellar people in my life who would go to hell and back for me. I may have let myself forget for a moment, but they were there to remind me – poking their heads into my life by phone, email, texts, and dinner invitations at just the right time. Some with just laughter and good times. And others with strong admonitions regarding my forgetful nature. Ash, you know you’d do the same for me, you think I really wouldn’t be there for you?

And its true. These are the rocks and pillars of my life. The ones that have already been through hell and back for me. And I for them. But what happened is I have given and given to the wrong people. They didn’t give back, and I was left feeling empty. But, I guess that’s just what happens sometimes, but it’s all the more reason to hang on to the ones that you know will always give back.

But back to my thesis. Relationships. Romantic ones. We get into them, and we can become isolated. Sometimes not even by choice. My long distance romance certainly did not take much time away from my friends and family, but it might have them think I needed them less. Or maybe it made me think I needed them less. Or even a little of both. It makes the person inside the relationship afraid to look out. It seems lonely, because sometimes our people learn to “let us be.”

I am so thankful that this world really isn’t as lonely as it sometimes seems. And I am especially thankful for good friends: old and new.

 

Let us not confuse poise with confidence…

So, on Monday I had my first hearing and I forgot to enter my appearance for the court. A real life, harmless error. The judge was friendly and entered it for me. Hey, I’m not even a lawyer yet. We all make mistakes.

Not to mention all the effort it was taking to make a sound through the laryngitis I tried so hard to overcome by drinking tea and honey and refusing to talk to anyone all weekend. I was barely squeaking out answers, and my supervisor later noticed that she didn’t think I would even show up in the transcripts because she had no idea how the microphones could possibly have picked me up.

I didn’t have the answers to every single question ready.

But, I stood there. And with poise, I didn’t blush. I didn’t look away. I said “your honor” whenever addressing the court. We got the order of protection for our client.

People assume I’m not shy and that I am confident in all social situations. A trial advocacy professor noted that I exude poise when in front of the court. I think that’s just what it is — poise. That’s what’s important to me, and that’s what I’ve learned to project. I’m rarely confident. I rarely prepare – especially for public speaking events. I’m a procrastinator who prefers to “wing it.” I also worry about what people think in an unfamiliar social setting. I can be nervous around authority figures. I am easily intimidated. But, only the inner circle really knows all these things about me, because where ever I happen to be uncomfortable, I rarely break frame on poise.

True story: This summer a woman walked into the law firm from off the street. We didn’t take her case, but she was looking for an attorney to help with a batter charge against her. A very large, round, black woman told me that she had punched a nurse in the “vagina” twice. She didn’t remember punching the nurse because she was unconscious, or having a seizure. At the end of the story she mumbled, “oh and also some prostitution.”

Our criminal law attorney laughed hysterically when I went to his office to see if he wanted her case. He kept me in his office for a few minutes to get the details, and to wax philosophically on how you can’t actually punch someone there — at least not easily. I asked if he wanted to talk to her, and he told me to send her across the street. (Another law firm, I’m assuming a frenemy must own this firm.)

As she left the other law clerks came pouring out of the office next to the main lobby. They were also laughing hysterically, and could not believe how I managed to keep a straight face. Quickly, the fact that I didn’t laugh during this whole exchange became as key of a detail as the fact that this woman claimed she punched someone in the vagina. Looking back, it was certainly one of the more interesting things that happened this summer, but we had a potential client, in off the street with a real problem.

I handled it with poise.

 

Why so serious?

What’s the word… Uptight?

I’ve been trying to figure something out: why are people who know me from work or school always so surprised to see me out having fun and “letting loose?” A little reserved at the get-go. Smart. Serious. A hard worker. Eh… maybe the right answer is uptight.

Whenever I feel insecure, I overcompensate. I want my teachers to like me, so I buckle down and pay attention. I want my bosses and supervisors to like me, so I am always busy, always productive. I want acquaintances to like me, so I don’t bother revealing anything that I think might turn someone off. In turn, I am hiding every weakness, trying to cover up every flaw, and refusing for one second to let myself feel vulnerable.

It’s not working for me anymore.

So, here is the plan: To have fun. Let loose. To stop being so uptight. To be a little vulnerable. To flirt a little more, laugh a little more, and stop worrying about tomorrow before it gets here. I’m not going to stop being me. I’m not shooting for a 180-degree what-happened-to-her-reaction. I just want to…

Enjoy Life.

 

When the “good guy” isn’t enough…

Lately I have been struggling to figure out my place in the world. Where do I fit in amongst the madness. What role do I serve to my wonderful friends who keep me around and take such good care of me. I know for a fact I come off as reserved to most. Somewhat unapproachable. But, I want to be approached. So, what am I doing to scare so many people away.

I don’t trust off the bat. Probably because I have too much to share. I can’t just “be open” like most can, because being open for me means expressing a host of emotions and feelings that most people aren’t used to and don’t want to be a part of. These are things that are best saved for only the closest friends. To open up too soon scares most away. But I don’t really have an “in-between.” Sure, I can play the social game, and go have a few drinks, sing some terrible karaoke, throw some darts, play a mean second base. All these are well and good, but this is where the bulk of the acquaintances, colleagues, classmates, see me as reserved, unapproachable. But, it’s also where I’ve collected some of my closest friends over the years.

I was fretting a bit over my “unapproachable” status. Comparing myself to the nice guy that everyone likes. The “first pick” for the study team or party invite. Why isn’t that me?

Because you’re more than that. You’re the one that people go to when the good guy just isn’t enough. And maybe it takes a little longer for those relationships to grow, but people need more than just the good guy more often than you might think.

Tonight, I was able to be more than just the good guy for someone. A friend in need learned my value, and all I had to do was be there, and be myself. But, I knew to ask if he needed to be sad, or needed to be distracted. I knew how to get him to listen to himself and not put words in his mouth as he worked through complex emotions. And he felt like he could tell me how difficult it is to deal with people who want everything to be simple. Did I solve his problems in one night? No, absolutely I didn’t. Did he solve all of my issues about knowing my role in this life? No, probably not. But, I felt appreciated.

My last blog talked a little bit about heart break, and how that had made me doubt myself. That element of the broken heart wasn’t even about the romantic type of heart break, but it was the kind of pain inflicted by a friend that you trusted. This person made me feel like I wasn’t sympathetic or understanding. I began to doubt my ability to empathize and be supportive. These are the one qualities of any that I have always considered to be my strengths: the one thing that I knew how to do. To be there for friends. My people may point out other things they think are great. I am sure I can be fun and witty. I’m smart, and play a mean second base. But, being there. That’s the thing I thought I was made to do. And I was made to doubt that, so very recently.

So, tonight, I thank my anonymous friend who needed someone and happened to find me. I hate that he is hurting. Especially since the pain he is feeling is much like pain I have felt very recently. But I am thankful to have the assurance, that I really am and can be a good friend.

It’s just important to be needed.

 

My abandoned blog…

Revisiting I see the themes never changed. Or maybe I’ve just come full circle — back to realizing and mourning again the temporary nature of life.

Law school is coming to an end. And as I am entering into the final semester and realizing that it will be gone and over before I realize it, I am feeling prematurely nostalgic for all the times that I had, and even will have in these last short months. December was a really difficult month for me. I was overcome with anxiety, sadness, insecurity. I began to realize that three years of law school was the longest period of time that I had something planned out for me that was constant — basically since high school. I had reveled in the security of knowing that for the next three years I could pursue a new career path and dream in the comforts of J.D. program.

As I began 3L, happy with grades and solid legal experience behind me, I still had no idea what was next. Friends and family were ordered to not ask me about jobs, bar exams, or what state I was planning to live in after graduation. Those who disobeyed my request were not treated kindly. It was something that I wasn’t ready to think about, and I would not be forced to think about it. But the time came, and I just had to. I had to start making decisions. The Illinois Bar it is. I can teach for a semester if I don’t get the job I want. If a job opens up for me in another state, there is always the February Bar for wherever that may be. All my family is in Illinois, they may need a lawyer at some point – so the money and effort put into this exam will not be completely a waste. Worth what I will have put into it come August 1? Well that’s another question entirely.

Since this last post, I’ve experienced heartbreak. My post law school plans changed. Not overnight, but slowly. And those plans aren’t still completely out of the questions, but making a solid decision to make such a big move has been postponed for at least a bit. I needed to get my footing. Heartbreak has also, more recently, caused me to doubt myself. This is probably the most troubling effect that I am dealing with. When someone you trust makes hurtful accusations, there just doesn’t seem to be a clear remedy out there to mend that pain. I’ve poured over memories, correspondences, spoken with friends trying to regain some of my self-confidence. I cycle through emotions like anger, sadness, ambivalence, bewilderment. I’ve tried to figure out if I should be offended, or if I really did do something wrong.

While I am self-admittedly sensitive, I accept truth rather well when I know it’s done in love. Ashley, I see you doing this… but it’s not a good decision. I delight in my friends who love me enough to take those risks and speak hard truths to me. But this was different.

So, like a sparrow in a hurricane. Right now I am feeling wounded. My wings are too weary, and I can barely fly. Reaching out to those love me, and thankful for those who have figured out I need them to reach out to me right now. Not completely broken, but needing strength and time to heal.

 

Conversations with the moon…

There was a really gorgeous, huge crescent moon in the sky tonight as I was driving home from hanging out with some friends in Town Square. I was admiring the moon, and planning to take a few pictures of it when I got home, but as I drove west on the 215, I noticed the moon was starting to disappear, swallowed by a mountain made invisible by the night sky. Since the city is more or less surrounded by mountains, and it would be quite a hike, in the dark with minimal survival skills (though Tyler, Su Shi and I did pick up some survival skills tonight at Borders) to make it to the top of one to try and take a picture, my moment with the moon was lost, and I wasn’t able to memorialize it on my digital camera. It made me a little sad.

So many things in life are temporary. At 29 and starting a second year all of my jobs have been more or less temporary. School is temporary. Youth  is temporary. Sadly, sometimes even our relationships our temporary. Many seasons of my life have slipped on by before I was ready to let them go. And sometimes before I could appreciate them for what they were.

With the loss that I’ve experienced, I have learned to cherish every moment. Even as a child, I wasn’t in a hurry to grow up. For a while I was in a hurry to get my driver’s license, but that was an entirely different note. Even then, I was somehow able to realize that childhood was something that I would miss, and I hung on to it.

Yet, I’ve also come to expect change. To know that it’s going to happen. And sometimes I can’t help but fear the worst. I worry about losing the people I love. I worry about getting too old and hating myself for not taking advantage of life when I could.

So, as I saw the moon sinking into the mountains. Disappearing prematurely into what seemed like mid-sky and I drove for a while under a moonless, desert sky, I felt a little like a metaphor had been painted for me in the sky. I’ve been fretting over how unstable my life feels right now. I’d like to say my little moment with nature made me feel better, but it actually just reminded me of all the things that have been making me feel so blue lately.

 

sometimes I forget…

That I’m not ugly. Or fat. That my life is actually pretty cool. That I’m talented, and smart. Attending a great law school. That I have a supportive family, awesome friends. Good with people, kids, and dogs. When I see my name somewhere – the image that comes to my mind of what I am, is far less impressive than the me I really am.

I don’t know where this atrociously low self-esteem originated. I don’t believe that it is evident that by default I feel this way about myself. Fortunately throughout most of the day I forget that I think these things about myself and carry on. But lately I am plagued by these thoughts a little more than usual.

 

Decisions…

I doubt I could even begin to count the number of times I’ve been faced with a decision where one choice seemed safe and comfortable (the easy road), and the other choice was enticing, exciting, but seemed a little risky (the scary road). Sometimes I take the easy road. Other times I have taken the scary road. Funny thing is, whenever I take the easy road, I always wonder: what if. The scary road? Well I can’t think of a single example where the scary road didn’t work out or left me wondering if I had made the right decision.

 

Let’s take my divorce as an example. Those who know me well, know this was a big turning point in my life. My ex made enough money, would never leave me. It was quite “safe” to stay. Except that neither of us was happy. Neither of us would be happy. My religious past, the impending legal battle, fears of being alone, concern for what friends and family would think – and a host of other concerns left me battling out this decision for over a year. Leaving was the scary road. I didn’t expect it to be easy. Yet, when it came down to it – while there were difficult moments – I never once doubted that I made the right decision. As scary as it was, I was happy, I was blessed. Friends pulled through for me in ways that absolutely stunned me. And my life was and is so much better for it now.

 

Why reach back to that point? It was the moment in my life where I realized for the first time that I had control over my life. I could make a decision – as scary as it seemed at the time – and have it work out fabulously. After that came a full-time job that I left for law school. A week on a cruise ship with two fabulous friends. Two years of being more or less single because I was determined to never settle again.

 

And Wednesday I was offered an internship with the States Attorney’s office. An internship that promised a paying job next summer, and after graduation. Job security in this market is priceless. Yet, it’s Decatur, IL. In my decision to go to law school I never once thought I would stay in Illinois after graduation. Actually, I didn’t think I would stay in Illinois for law school. And the job is in criminal law. Interesting, yes. But, never really been what I was passionate about.

 

On Thursday I was offered an internship with the ACLU in Las Vegas. Civil Rights – that’s what I went to law school to do. It’s in Las Vegas – a fun city and a change of scenery. And it’s an open door towards a bright future with someone I love very much. Why is this the scary choice? Because its new, and different. And not in the Midwest. And I’ll have to meet new people and say a temporary goodbye to my awesome Champaign compadres (who I hope will come visit me.)

 

So which do I choose? Simple, safe, close to home? Or the exciting adventure of hopes and the unknown.