29

Today is my 29th birthday. I'm 29. Weird.

My good friends Mike and Joey were visiting me from Southern California all week long. They've been staying in my apartment, and we had a fantastic time together exploring NYC, eating really delicious (and indulgent) food, and walking our little legs off. I think we averaged about 10 miles/day for 4.5 days. That's a lot of walking, at least according to my feet and legs which are begging for some R&R. The boys left this afternoon, after a wonderful brunch and tour of Hoboken, NJ.

In all of the planning for their visit, I completely forgot that they'd be leaving me on my birthday, giving me an entire half of a day to celebrate on my own with friends. I didn't even think to plan anything fun to do once they departed. I tried to put something together at the last minute, though everyone I asked was already busy--understandably.

It's amazing how I left my apartment this morning with my boys in tow, surrounded by their loving presences and energy, and came back to find the apartment empty and sad. My special week with them ended on a special day for me...without any real special ending.

I know birthdays lose their grandeur as we get older. I know that as of 5 minutes ago, I had 87 posts on FB wishing me a happy birthday and countless other phone calls, cards, messages, and gifts. I know I was (and still am) totally exhausted after a busy week with my friends. But there's a part of me that really missed having big plans tonight--somehow, my chinese food, leftover coconut lemon cake, and Sister Act didn't really scream, "yay, you're 29!" It makes me sad that I didn't have anyone to make this part of the day really special and points out just how lonely I feel even when I am surrounded with love.

I made a secret pact with myself last year that I'd have someone special to turn 29 with. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I feel like a failure because I didn't really have that. The boys and I were having a heart to heart last night, and I mentioned that I have achieved so much of what I've always wanted to do--and yet, when it comes to love, I'm a disaster. Mike gently reminded me that I'm in control of my weight loss, my education, my profession. When it comes to relationships, I can't steer my own course since other people are involved. He's right, but it's REALLY freakin' annoying. I know I'm not a failure, or pathetic, or ridiculous because I spent the night of my birthday alone; but it would have been really, really nice to have someone to make the day feel a little more special.

God, I sound and feel selfish and silly for wanting more than the wonderful day I had. I'm trying really, really hard to let go of this "poor me" attitude and bask in the glow of the amazing love that people have poured into my life today. Why is that so damn hard?

I'm 29. Weird.

Boys Boys Boys

Many thanks to Lady GaGa for giving me the brilliant title for this post.

As I said in a previous post, dating has become the new blogging throughout the past year. For me, this dating thing has been a BIG deal for a ton of reasons, the biggest of which is that I've learned far more about myself and the opposite sex than I ever thought I could know. I've pushed myself to date all kinds of men this year, some of whom I never thought I would allow myself to consider. I guess I've learned that you never really know who you'll spark with unless you give the person a chance. So I've given lots of men lots of chances; sometimes too many, sometimes not enough, sometimes the perfect amount. Obviously I'm still single, so the right one hasn't come along; but I've gained a newfound appreciation for this game they call dating.

I think the biggest, most meaningful lesson I've learned from all of this is that I actually am a strong, powerful sexual creature. It's exciting for me to know that I--in both physical and emotional ways--have the power to excite a man. I've had men tell me that I'm sexy, that I'm hot, that they want me. Until this year, this was uncharted territory in Tracy-Land. It's taken me a long time, but I've allowed myself to become much more physical with men than I've ever been before; while this may not sound like a big deal, for someone like me who's afraid to take her clothes off in a women's locker room, the fact that I've taken my clothes off for a few select men throughout the past year is indeed a very big deal. I've had to learn how to pick and choose which men are allowed to see this side of me, as well as when to let them see it (it just so happens that giving away too much too soon :::coughcoughonthefirstdatecoughcough::: is a big no-no, no matter your size or shape.) While I knew this before, I guess I had to play around before I could really understand the concept.

I've also learned that most men are not the shallow jackasses I once thought they were. Sure, there was the guy who told me I should have surgery because my "leftovers" were a "turn-off" and "hideous" (his words, not mine) and the guy who thought that bigger girls put out more easily than smaller ones because we're more desperate for attention. Both guys were losers who I never allowed to see me again. But more often than not, I've had experiences with guys that have surprised me--those who have been more than understanding about who I am and why my body is the way it is. Those who have told me that they're proud of my accomplishments and want to make me feel as beautiful as they think I am. The one who, so sweetly, told me that when he looked at my body he just saw ME as a whole person, inside and out. It's those experiences that have changed the way I think about the male gender and their attitudes towards women of every shape and size. Though my relationships with them didn't work out, they've all stayed with me in positive ways and helped me to see my sexuality, my body, and my whole self in a much different light.

Most of these guys stayed with me for 2-4 weeks. One of them, however, was a part of my life from January through April. I guess you could say it was the longest romantic "relationship" I've ever had, though neither of us ever declared feelings or titles for the other. It was a complicated situation, but to this point, the most meaningful connection I've had with a man in a long time. We could talk to each other about anything and everything, sharing stories and laughter and, at one point, tears. I loved spending time with him and always left feeling like THIS time was going to change everything, that THIS time he'd want to move our relationship to the next level; that never happened. It took all of the courage I had to call and dump him that Wednesday night at the end of April, explaining simply that I liked him a lot, but needed and deserved more from a relationship. I cried myself that night, so scared that I was giving up on someone who really did honor me for who I was on the inside and outside. It was for the best, which I see now--but it still, even 2 months later, hurts like hell sometimes. I still miss him, especially after a bad first date or when I'm feeling lonely. I realized, as soon as I'd hung up the phone with him that night, that the whole time I was trying to tell myself I DIDN'T have feelings for him, I actually cultivated a very strong "like" (love seems to strong, even now) for him. I haven't felt that way about anyone in a long time, since Andrew back in high school.

I go back and forth about how my feelings towards this dating business. I've learned SO MUCH about myself (there is tons of stuff I could add to this post, but won't) and about relationships. I've had a great time with so many of these people and have--for the most part--been treated like a lady. It feels good to share the soft, romantic, sexy side of myself with someone else AND with myself. I've enjoyed getting to know this side of me. Though, on the other hand, now that I've had a taste of the many perks of being in a relationship, I want more. Moreso than ever before, I want to know what real love is. I want to experience it on all levels. I actually crave physical contact in ways I never did before. The loneliness that I thought couldn't get any worse has actually become palpable. It's all the more reason to keep putting myself out there and keep dating and keep learning--even when things don't go as I'd like them to.

I feel like there's so, so much more I could say, but this post is already quite lengthy. Until next time...

For honesty's sake, I feel the need to share the following:

When I said in my last post that I'd gained 10 lbs, I was actually lying. I didn't know it at the time, but the number of pounds I thought I'd gained this year was far from the truth.

I haven't gained an ounce since the last time I weighed myself, about 4 months ago.

I was shocked and amazed when I stepped on the scale yesterday and the number was exactly the same as it had been all that time ago. I even turned the scale off and on again and weighed myself one more time to make sure it was correct. Same number.

Isn't it fascinating how we build these things up in our heads? All semester, I'd been convinced that I'd put on pounds. As a result, I was terrified of stepping on the scale to see if I was actually right, so I avoided it like the plague. It's kind of the same thing as when I avoid checking the balance of my bank account because I think I don't have any money, only to see that I DO have money and all is right with the world. I am such a paranoid freak.

It's amazing how bad experiences on the scale and with my bank account can elicit this silly fear in me and so many of us.

I remember the early days of this blog, when I was on WW and had a weekly weigh-in. The truth--AKA the number on the scale--was right there for me to see. It was encouraging to see the numbers decrease as the years went on, and I had a secure sense of how I was doing with my weight loss goals. In a strange way, I actually looked forward to my weigh-ins. The farther I get from that place, where my weight-loss was at the forefront of my life, the less I want to know what that number is. As I continue my life's journey, the act of losing weight becomes increasingly more difficult for physiological and emotional reasons. Smaller people lose weight much more slowly, but more than that, the truths about my past and present that I continue to explore become much harder to bear. I ignore them out of fear for what they really mean and how I and others will react to my exploring them.

Perhaps it's this fear of the truth that's prevented me from losing this last 50-ish pounds and not the self-acceptance or complacency I've told myself it was. I'm honestly not sure what it is, but I know that through the struggle to find the answers I can only grow (and shrink) in the best ways possible.

The process of opening myself up to the truth is scary as hell, whether or not I allow myself to do it. Regardless, maybe it's time to let it happen...

Starting Over

It's been a long time since I've felt compelled to come back to this space. There are so many reasons why, including school and work and my newfound NYC social life, but the truth of the matter is that my weight loss just isn't a top priority in my life these days. I jokingly told someone a few months back that "dating is the new blogging", meaning I was concentrating on actually HAVING a life rather than merely documenting what I thought was my life. Living a fulfilling life is so much more than digging into your emotional core for the world (or, a small part of my world) to see. Sometimes, it's about forgetting who you were and who you want to be and remembering who you are RIGHT NOW, in the present time and place. Sometimes, it feels good to forget about all the shit and hard work and go out and have fun. For me, that's a huge life lesson that I'm glad I finally learned.

However, something lately has been pulling me back here. Perhaps it's the 10 pounds I've gained after an academically and emotionally stimulating/exhausting year. I realized yesterday, as I was shoveling salad down my throat after writing to my cousins about a slimeball who'd been dating both me and a good friend of mine, that I was falling victim to emotional eating. I was eating that salad so quickly to forget about my anger and disappointment, and worse than that, it felt GOOD to be doing so. In my efforts to live in the moment and put my past behind me, I'd actually reverted to the old habits that made my past so painful in the first place. After 4 years of living a new, healthy lifestyle, the old Tracy is still there and determined to make her presence known. I thought about it all yesterday afternoon; perhaps the old Tracy has been there all year long, crying out for the attention that I'd been denying her by ignoring this blog and pretending my healthy habits were now permanent.

As much as I'd like to live fully in the present, perhaps I'm not one of those people who'll ever be able to completely do so. I can't just forget my past self to concentrate on my present and future selves--not only because they're a part of me, but because something in there is still unresolved and screaming out to be acknowledged. That something still finds comfort and love from food, and until that something is heard and healed, I can't go on ignoring it and thinking it'll go away.

So here I am, back in this safe space where I can be my most authentic and raw self for the people who love and support me no matter what I say or do. I'm not sure what direction the blog will take from here, how often I'll be writing, or if the honest feelings I plan to divulge will actually help me to stay on the right track; I do think, however, that being surrounded by this community can assist me in making smarter choices and being gentle with myself without giving myself too much leeway. We shall see. In the meantime, it feels good to be back here, and I hope to stay awhile.

Upon writing this, I'm realizing that maybe it's actually possible to live in the past and the present all at the same time. The past conjures up feelings that affect your behaviors in the present--therefore, it's all one and the same. Just something to play with as I start this brave new journey, yet again.

Reminder

Ugh.

Too much sugar.

I'm writing this as a (gentle) reminder to myself that eating too much sugar in one day makes me very, very sick.

In one day, I consumed the following:

1 canned Manishchewitz macaroon (LOVE these)

2 homemade almond macaroons

2 homemade coconut macaroons

2 pieces of homemade Passover-friendly mandel brot

1 Passover-friendly brownie

1 small serving of gelato (totally worthwhile, more so than ANY of the above)

About 5 gazillion pieces of the matzo toffee I made to take to Kansas City for the Easter celebration that I wasn't able to attend because I ate too much sugar yesterday

Y'all, this girl can't handle that much sugar anymore.

What happened afterwards? I crawled into bed at midnight and tossed and turned until 4:30am. When i finally did fall asleep, I slept TERRIBLY; my heart was racing, I was hot and sweaty, and my head was pounding. My poor body just couldn't handle the amount of sugar I consumed yesterday and went into freak-out mode.

Because of the sugar overload, I had to cancel my plans to drive to KC early this morning to see one of my best friends on Easter Sunday. Driving 3.5 hours there, spending the day with Leah's family, and driving 3.5 hours home--all in one day--just seemed like a bad idea after only 2 hours of sleep. Something in my gut was telling me that it would be unsafe, and if I've learned anything in the last 2.5 years, it's that my instincts are usually right. I'm so, SO sad not to see Leah on this trip home, but I feel confident that I made the safest decision for myself.

Other than feeling disappointed that I didn't get to see Leah (and, for the record L-dawg, I'm really sorry about that...) I don't feel guilty about indulging yesterday. Yes, I ate too many of the wrong things, but the food was really good and everyone has days when we eat too much of the wrong thing. I'm back on the bandwagon today and as far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters. Last night was a reminder of what I USED to do to my body and how much better it feels when I do the right things. I guess it's God's way of keeping me accountable even after a slip-up.

So remember, Tracy...

-vegetables/healthy food=restful sleep

-sugar/junk food=no sleep.

20 Ways to Love Your Body

While perusing the healthy food and living blogs I read on a regular basis, I came across this list of 20 amazing ways to learn to love your body. This list comes from the NEDA (National Eating Disorders Awareness) website, but I think it's beautiful and applicable to any of us, eating disordered or not. I wanted to post it not only for my own purposes, but also in hopes that others of you will glean some inspiration or self-love from it. Sometimes we all need gentle reminders of how amazing our bodies are.

Courtesy of NEDA and Margo Maine, Ph.D.

1. Think of your body as the vehicle to your dreams. Honor it. Respect it. Fuel it.
2. Create a list of all the things your body lets you do. Read it and add to it often.
3. Become aware of what your body can do each day. Remember it is the instrument of your life, not just an ornament.
4. Create a list of people you admire: people who have contributed to your life, your community, or the world. Consider whether their appearance was important to their success and accomplishments.
5. Walk with your head held high, supported by pride and confidence in yourself as a person.
6. Don’t let your weight or shape keep you from activities that you enjoy.
7. Wear comfortable clothes that you like, that express your personal style, and that feel good to your body.
8. Count your blessings, not your blemishes.
9. Think about all the things you could accomplish with the time and energy you currently spend worrying about your body and appearance. Try one!
10. Be your body’s friend and supporter, not its enemy.
11. Consider this: your skin replaces itself once a month, your stomach lining every five days, your liver every six weeks, and your skeleton every three months. Your body is extraordinary–begin to respect and appreciate it.
12. Every morning when you wake up, thank your body for resting and rejuvenating itself so you can enjoy the day.
13. Every evening when you go to bed, tell your body how much you appreciate what it has allowed you to do throughout the day.
14. Find a method of exercise that you enjoy and do it regularly. Don’t exercise to lose weight or to fight your body. Do it to make your body healthy and strong and because it makes you feel good. Exercise for the Three F’s: Fun, Fitness, and Friendship.
15. Think back to a time in your life when you felt good about your body. Tell yourself you can feel like that again, even in this body at this age.
16. Keep a list of 10 positive things about yourself–without mentioning your appearance. Add to it!
17. Put a sign on each of your mirrors saying, “I’m beautiful inside and out.”
18. Choose to find the beauty in the world and in yourself.
19. Start saying to yourself, “Life is too short to waste my time hating my body this way.”
20. Eat when you are hungry. Rest when you are tired. Surround yourself with people that remind you of your inner strength and beauty.

Here's What I HAVEN'T Told You...

...in the last month since I've written.

It's been rough, guys. Really rough. Like, I want to live in a pool of almond butter and melted chocolate with Crumbs cupcakes and pillows of homemade mac and cheese as my flotation devices, rough.

This semester is a Monster. With a capital 'M'. It feels like HUC has decided that it's okay to pile on the 'academic' classes on top of all of our music classes and comprehensive exams. Between my anxiety-inducing midrash class, frustrating liturgy class (which I was so excited about...bummer), history of Jewish education class (which shouldn't carry nearly the workload it does) and history of the cantorate class, I think I might keel over and die sooner rather than later. So much reading. So many papers.

And on that note...

My rabbinics professor from last semester wrote an online review in which he called my paper writing skills "detestable". He then proceeded to tell me that he passed me--but barely. I am well aware that my writing skills are bad and that I have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about in the "World of Rabbinic Literature." Thank you for saying so in a space where only I can see it, along with the deans of the school and the cantorial program. I'm so glad they know that you think I'm a moron.

I think these comments just hit hard on the fact that I am NOT an academic, that I will always struggle with topics that are as broad and--at the same time--so specific, as rabbinic literature. I don't think on the same level as my friends and classmates, and that's not a good thing or a bad thing...it's just me, trying to soak it all in and make sense of the world around me. However, it's frustrating that I can never raise my hand in class, that I'm always scared the professor will call on me and I'll either a.) say something ridiculous or b.) not say anything at all and freeze out of fear. I'm feeling more and more that people are catching onto the fact that I don't know what I'm talking about, and I don't want people thinking I am an idiot when I know I'm not one.

Onto another subject...

I found out last week that a good friend and mentor of mine has terminal cancer. The organist at my home congregation, who is like a dad to me, was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer that has also spread to the liver. With treatment, his doctors are giving him 5-7 months, which means there's a chance I'll never see him again. This news came from out of nowhere, especially because in the last couple of years he's worked hard to quit smoking and lose a good amount of weight. He's someone whom I love very, very much and I was so shocked and saddened by this news that I cried for almost 2 straight days last week.

The worst part is that I have yet to reach out to him in any way, so he has no idea I am feeling the way I do. He has no idea that I would do anything in my power to bring him comfort and joy and laughter if I could. He has no idea that the thought of Temple Israel without him is completely strange and unthinkable. He doesn't know how much I love him, and for whatever reason, I can't bring myself to reach out to him. I am making HIS situation all about ME, when really a good friend would call just to express their love and concern and prayers. I HATE THIS ABOUT MYSELF, and yet I do nothing.

Someday I will learn. Maybe this summer of CPE (keep your fingers crossed) will teach me what to say and how to react in situations like this.

There have been a lot of other tough moments already this semester. More than ever, I am noticing my emotional connection to food, and how when I am sad or angry, I reach for food to comfort me. Luckily I haven't gained any weight, but I have yet to lose any either. It's been a long time since I've had a big loss on the scale, and every time someone tells me that I look thinner I feel ashamed that I haven't actually lost anything. I miss feeling proud of myself and my accomplishments.

I've been feeling really low lately and haven't been able to reach out to anyone. I just feel like everyone has their own issues to worry about. I'm desperately craving someone to just hold me and listen and tell me that things are going to be okay, even if they aren't. I want love, or friendship, or companionship to fill the void I've been filling with food the last few months.

I've been hesitant to write in this space this year because I'm not really feeling a connection to losing weight anymore. I am, however, feeling a deep connection with a void I've created for myself in the last few months, which I've allowed myself to fill with food. I realized a few weeks ago that maybe I could fill the void by coming back to this space, writing honestly about where I am in my weight loss, even if where I am is stuck. Even now it feels good to let go of some of what I've held inside for too long, and to take off the happy face for one that is real.