Measuring our success. When is I am enough, enough?

Have you ever had an extreme body transformation? Started a new fitness routine and got countless of attention because of how 'great' you looked? Or finally found the discipline to follow through on 'Whole 30'? Have you then, tried to ever recreate this, once your body plateaued? Worked out too much because you had a piece of bread? Or starved your body of nutrients it needs, to jump-start your body, and get the same results you did when you first shifted your lifestyle? I have and I do.

What happens when the compliments end? When the attention fades? What happens when eating a cupcake makes you happier than telling people how 'clean' you eat, and how you've never felt better eating nothing but literally greens, fruits, and nuts. That was me, for a while, thinner than I could have ever imagined as a child, I remember back to those days of how 'happy' I was. How good I felt. But was I just remembering how green the grass was and how all the attention and comments on insta and facebook made me float?

In a culture where our lives are full of fitness bloggers, instagram accounts that strike the perfect pose, magazine covers of perfection, we begin to think this is all real life. But no one talks about the emotional effects, or what happens once your body is used to your routine, when it's accostomed to your new habits. And you're just sick of watching and counting every calorie, fat, or whatever your fitness gurus track these days, and you just want to fucking eat without being stressed.

In 2012, I did my first cleanse. I never really had that great of eating habits. When my husband and I met, our diet consisted of Morning Star nuggets, mac and cheese, and red velvet cake from Target. SO needless to say, the minute to started to remove processed foods such as sugar and dairy. I started losing weight drastically. That's when the attention came to my bodily shifts from those around me and when I started to record my measurements weekly, if not every other day. I couldn't believe what my body was doing for me, I finally felt like we were friends, like I figured it out. My soul (Ego) became fed by the noticing of my physical change. I was proud, I could dress, without struggling, without wanting to die in the fitting room, of disgust. I got so hooked, it became a game. What could I remove, to tell people I was removing it, just to feel 'better'; just so I could post on my instagram and, for lack of a better phrase, feel more accomplished than everyone else. (Wow, yeah, this is embarrassing to put into writing)

I started posting pics online, like most people in their 'fitness journey' do. And again, my ego was tremendously stroked by all the comments and praise. I was the skinniest I've ever been and swore that I was the happiest, although my husband begs to differ. I was that girl who'd go out to dinner and order whatever was non-dairy, no gluten, and no sugar...aka, air. I felt I was so much better than everyone around me, because of this discipline. I convinced myself that food wasn't joy. That it was necessity. Which, if you know me, isn't me. This isn't my truth.

Don't get me wrong. Doing the 'Clean' cleanse (my first cleanse), completely changed my relationship with food, for the best. The way in which I snack, the way in which I make my lunches, and when I chose to eat the sugar and calories I want, I own it. I learned amazing eating habits, that have still stuck around. But right now...it's not enough. And I realized why.

After we got married in 2013, this strict diet started to plummet, as it does once you've gotten married and all the pictures are taken. I started to indulge a little more, not necessarily crave food, or let it control me, but know when I really wanted something, why I wanted it, and just to eat it. The problem is, I started to feel an immense sense of guilt. Every ounce of pasta, piece of bread, little bit of sugar, I hated myself after I ate it. Because I know, it wouldn't make me skinny, it wouldn't help me lose weight. It was keeping me where I was, if not making me gain a pound. Wow, a pound. Then, I started to restrict again, not because I wanted to be healthy, or change habits, but because I wanted to get back to my lowest weight, my smallest pants, they were a bit tight at this time. I was doing it for all the wrong reasons. The comments started to dwindle, the attention started to soften, and I was left with, me. No static, no goals, no data, just me.

Months past, hell, years past. Cleanse here to there, it never worked, because the intentions were all wrong. I started to try on my smallest jeans once a week, just to see if there was a difference, if I could get back into them. Needless to say, all this did was make me suffer more, and detest my body that I had. I battled deep internal demons of self-loathing, body shaming, and suffered my own fight. I was doing this to myself, no one else was partaking in this battle, I had called war on my muscles, my bones, my waistline. All for what? To live the 'glory' of my thinnest days? For whom? On my best days, I'd get to my mat, with the mantra 'I am not my body', and realize the greatness in my temples, and on the worst days, I'd wake up with the mantra of 'you're not good enough', and I'd avoid my mat like the plague, or just cry.

Six months ago, I moved to NYC, and with any big move, I've put on a little here, and a little there, due to my exploration of the local cuisines, something that fills my cup. Trying out new delicious restaurants, exploring the tasty local Brooklyn bakeries, coffee shop hopping, I started to realize that I have never felt more alive in my exploration of this colorful city, but on the bad days there has been this underlying voice of guilt within me. This gravitational pull to restrict the foods I know 'aren't good for me' and get 'back on track'. Slowly, but surely, I'm realizing how happy I am, testing out the cuisines around me, with new friends, that I must remind myself that this is my truth. How I feel inside matters the most; not measuring my success literally with the size of my waist, nor with the praise of those on social media and in the studio. I have started to question the thoughts that enter into my brain, I ask myself 'do I know this to be true?', 'is this my truth right now'? I find the more we inquire, the more we realize these truths are constructed by the Ego. The stories we tell ourselves where who we were back then, they have nothing to do with the people we are now.

I started to realize, that I was looking for something in my food, that only I could provide myself. Acceptance and understanding.

We are in the height of the social media and fitness collaborative and that's so great! It helps people who would normally not have any body awareness, or attention to their health, a gateway, a welcome to more intentional lives. But the problem is, is it's suffocating our feeds. The before and after photos, the pics of your 'healthy and balanced lunch', snaps of you after your workout  in your sports bra (trust me, I'm guilty of these too!), they are leading us to believe that this is all there is, that this is the only measurable quantifier of success. We're weighing our value, health, and self-improvement on snippets of stranger's lives, snippets from our lives years ago, of micro minutes of an external reality.

When do we start to welcome the greatness we are, right now. When do we celebrate eating a doughnut and balancing it with a sensible vegi and grain bowl for dinner? When do we celebrate the fact that maybe we don't fit into the jeans we fit into 5 years ago, but that our bodies feel stronger, that sat still for five more minutes today, that we engaged with someone we loved today, that we made our cake, and ate it too? Why do we measure only what we can see?

I'm not only asking you, but I'm asking myself as well.

When it comes down to it, there's a difference in believing you're beautiful because people tell you that you are, and knowing that you are beautifully perfect, no matter what people say, no approval needed. When we trust that all we need is already within, we begin the trust the sensations of our body, rather than the voice inside. The pictures no longer matter, we no longer need the data, to measure every mishap, and we enjoy, we indulge, we live, one day, at a time.

Every day is a new day, our bodies are always shifting. It is up to us to love these vessels, including the words in which we speak to ourselves, and how we see ourselves in this world. The moment we begin to accept and love ourselves, is the moment we are then ready to really love those around us.

Namaste Yogis, until next time