A Misuse of My Imagination

“Man is not worried by real problems so much as by his imagined anxieties about real problems.”

― Epictetus

I have always been an uptight person. My default, Type A, control freak mode is instinctual. But after I had children my anxiety grew to mammoth proportions--like “You-couldn’t-handle-a-day-in-my-head” type of anxiety. From the minute I held my newborn child in my arms, the world was suddenly filled with danger and risks beyond my control. I remember moments of complete paralysis, a deer in headlights trying to manage the everyday mundane details of motherhood. Would I drop my baby? Would a taxi run up on the sidewalk and smash into my stroller (we lived in NYC at the time)? My brain was filled with fear and terror that prevented me from enjoying my first months of motherhood. It was suffocating and came as such a shock. None of the parenting books had warned me about this one.

My children are now ages 8 and 11. I have grown up a lot as a mother and gained back a bit of my sanity and rationality about the world around us. I can enjoy my days without completely helicoptering and hovering around my little humans. Yet the anxiety is still there. I have days that I wake up struggling to breathe because I am faced with ordinary, everyday tasks that I should be able to handle. I let menial tasks bog me down and send my mind spiraling to negative, stressful places. Fortunately, I have learned to identify my moments of panic for what they are - temporary bouts of anxiety that cause a physical reaction: increased heart rate, shortness of breath, tightening in my chest. Understanding my tendency to get overwhelmed and anxious, I have found numerous ways to self medicate and treat (or prevent) this anxiety from robbing me of my peace of mind and ability to live in the present.

As a CrossFit coach and affiliate owner, it comes as no surprise that I will say regular exercise contributes greatly to my ability to control my nerves and mind. Physical activity and movement take me out of my own head and allow me to focus on the task at hand. Sweat and work literally cleanse me from the inside out. When I am working out, I am surrounded by my friends and community, which also serves to take me out of my own paranoias. Whenever possible, I try to get in my exercise outside in the sunshine. A healthy dose of Vitamin D will always lift me up.

Aside from movement, I also need stillness and rest. There might be no greater influence on my emotional well-being than sleep. In our house, we call it “magic sleep” when we go to bed like a lion and wake up like a lamb, fully transformed and ready to interact with the world.  My body needs rest to recover from the wear and tear of using it everyday, but my brain needs time to turn off and reset. I am a solid sleeper. I average 7-8 hours of sleep per night. On days I coach early, this involves going to bed at 8:30 or 9, which sounds like a downer, but I can better enjoy every waking hour if I have the rest I need to maintain emotional balance.

In the last few years, I have discovered the direct link between my nutrition and my anxiety. A nutrient-dense, anti inflammatory diet is what keeps me performing and feeling my best. I am human and happen to really enjoy tacos, pizza and gelato, but I have come to realize the importance of being aware of what I put into my body. If I completely let go on the weekends and indulge in multiple treats and eat high quantities of gluten or sugar, I wake up with the weight of the world on my chest Monday morning. Consuming gluten and inflammatory foods has a direct correlation to my mental balance. When my brain is fed the nutrients it needs, it tends to be sharper and more willing to rationally handle my everyday life.

Surrounding myself with people who build me up and “get me” has become a huge part of staying healthy and ready for the present. My husband is always supportive and tends to let me know when I appear to need a workout, a walk outside or just a long talk. My close friend, who happens to be very rational and level-headed, allows me to schedule “worry meetings.” I can save up all my concerns and dump them out to her. We usually laugh at the absurdity of most of my worries, but when there are valid concerns, such as my mother’s Alzheimer’s or a friend who has cancer, she helps me breathe and think it through. I also have co-workers and fellow coaches who listen and help me to diffuse my “crazy” in moments of panic. I am so thankful for the tribe of people who regularly help me pull it together.

In a world that tends to look for a pill or quick fix for all that ails us,  few people want to hear how much work needs to go into maintaining both physical and mental health. Everything is connected. My personal experience has taught me that I cannot only exercise or eat my way to a balanced, healthy mind. There are so many interconnected, moving parts, each just as important as the next. Striking a healthy balance comes from self-exploration and learning to listen and pay attention to what my mind and body need on a daily basis.

The Rut Alarm

Marriage is not a noun; it's a verb. It isn't something you get. It's something you do. It's the way you love your partner every day.

-Barbara de Angelis

We just had a kid-free weekend away as a couple. We went to a concert, enjoyed great meals, strolled through the streets talking for hours and stayed in a swanky, hip hotel. It was perfect. Then three days later I looked at Brent with panic in my eyes and blurted, “I think we are growing apart!” He nodded and replied, “I know. I have noticed the rut.”

One of the dangers of running a business and spending a lot of time with your spouse is that it's easy to fall into a rut. The drift can come slowly like the tide quietly pulling away from the shore. It can become so normal to be together that we do not take quality time for our relationship. We don’t have to go out of our way to plan time together; we see each other all the time, but we are not always using that time to really pay attention and hear each other. Oftentimes, we are running errands or performing managerial tasks for the affiliate; we are together to accomplish a task, not spend quality time on our marriage.

Photo by Amanda Iannella

When I feel us entering one of these ruts, I sound ALL the alarms. I verbalize my feelings when I can sense distance forming between us so we can address it immediately. Brent tends to think I am a bit dramatic, but I am certainly not going to sit and watch the drift happen! Who in the world wants to live in a home with two people moving through life never seeing or listening to each other? It’s possible to be completely productive, run our household, cook healthy meals, maintain an active lifestyle, raise our kids and continue our careers while in a rut, and that is what scares me the most. It can just happen. The drift comes, and we are just moving through the motions, running through life on autopilot without feeling. So yes, call me dramatic, but I make a huge scene when I sense a distance forming. 

At times, we need to set clearer boundaries with work or technology. Maybe we can have a planning session and lay out our goals for the business, but then we can put the kids to bed early and have dinner and an indie film with no work talk or cell phones allowed. Sometimes we need our own space in our home. Our kids have to knock before they enter our bedroom. We decided it was important that we have one space in our house that could be ours - a room of one’s own. Other times we need to laugh and play. Not too long ago, we decided we needed to “feel closer” so we went out and jumped on the trampoline together for thirty minutes. We laughed until our bellies ached. A quiet meal together, a tech-free talk over a cup of coffee, an evening walk, or even a workout are all simple ways we can stop and be proactive in a moment of staleness.

Just as I work to redirect my thoughts in so many areas of my life, I also have to channel my energy and emotions when I have designated time with my spouse. Creating boundaries has become increasingly important. Brent and I both need to be seen as individuals with interests and opinions about the world around us, not just business partners. After all, we are human beings, not human doings. It is a tremendous balancing act that takes intentional action. I don’t believe that successful marriages just happen by chance. They involve constant work, fine tuning and attention. We must avoid auto pilot at all cost and seize the moment to be present as a couple. 

Photo by Kristie Hamilton

Brent and I took the kids to the pool and sat for two hours talking it out after I sounded the rut alarm. What was happening in the space between us since Sunday (it was only Wednesday)? We discussed possible causes and plans for improvement. I was not aware of some of my behaviors and neither was he. We listened and really heard each other. Those moments of open communication might be what I am most thankful for in our marriage. After fifteen years together, we are not so arrogant to believe that drifts don’t happen to the best of us. If we run a successful business and raise happy children, but lose our relationship, the foundation on which we build our dreams, then we will have missed the point entirely. It is our duty to ourselves to keep a finger on the pulse of our marriage and keep the ruts at bay.

Saving the Arts

“Anyone who believes that you can make art from language is part of a small, nearly-vanishing community, and we should all form a wedge and march on the enemy.”   -Ben Marcus

As a mother and a teacher, I fight to “Keep the Arts” in schools. Yet, I sat idly by while they slipped away from my own life. Poetry readings and gallery strolls did not meet the criteria of my to-do lists. Anything non-essential was cut for the sake of efficiency. My husband and I could manage our household, run a business, stay fit and active, and both balance our careers if we just stuck to the spreadsheet outlining our days. But, there was a problem. A tidy life, trimmed of all excess, was void of necessary space for thinking and creativity. Where was room for interpretation? Where were lively discussions? Art, meant to shift my thinking and stretch my imagination, was absent. Suddenly, the silence was deafening.

I watch my children thrive in a learning environment that celebrates creativity and discovery. Described as a nature-based school, their charter encourages hands-on, outdoor learning. Lessons are contextualized and learning often happens by accident as a byproduct of natural childhood curiosities. They are not given toys but rather are asked to create their own games. They are given space to think, grow and experiment. Where is this space in my busy adult life?

I had a great moment of epiphany last April during Sensoria, the annual celebration of literature and the arts at our college. I found the creative space in my life that I had deemed “non-essential” might just be my lifeline. During that week, I had the opportunity to attend author readings, literary workshops, and a dinner celebrating a writer/blogger. I fell in love with the power of the written word all over again. As a writing teacher, I grade hundreds of essays each semester, but I lost touch with the power of language as an art form.  My heart drank in the words and all the thoughtful, rich conversations that were born from that week of literary celebration. I realized that in the midst of my efficiency and all the positive, healthy habits I considered to be so vital in my life, I had lost my tendency to look for moments of awe and inspiration provoked by art and creative measures. Had I cut one of my soul’s sources of nourishment for the sake of “getting it all done”?

Sensoria Celebration with author, Amelia Morris.

 

Since my epiphany, I have joined a writing club, attended poetry readings, watched more films and documentaries, and strolled through art galleries. Just as I need sleep, exercise, proper nutrition, friendship and laughter, I need art and the space it provides for real thinking. I have never considered myself to be a creative writer. I do not write poetry or fiction, yet my writing has provided a fulfilling, creative outlet and opportunity for building connections between what I read, see, hear and discover. I have always told my students writing is thinking, and I have once again returned to practicing what I preach. Words have the power to make me uncomfortable and stretch my way of seeing this world beyond my spreadsheets and to-do lists. In that continuous shift is where the living happens.  Saving the arts has revitalized my love for learning and engaging in the world around me. Space for creativity has allowed me to take up residence in my own heart, soul and skin, no longer living solely as a task master of my life.

It's not Bravery

“But it is not bravery; I have no choice. I wake up and live my life. Don’t you do the same?”

“All the Light We Cannot See” by Jonathan Doerr

I wanted to run away. I stood contemplating my escape. My chest was tightening with every breath. I could not stay for another night, another day, another hour in this place. I needed to find help. There had to be someone to call, somewhere to hide. But there was nowhere to run. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. “It will not be like this the entire time, Jaime. This is one ugly scene; just handle it and move on.”

I spent that night taking care of my mom. I was staying with her for several days while my dad took some time for himself, a much-needed reprieve. It was bath time, and mom is in the late stages of Alzheimer’s. We were having a battle involving hygiene and diapers. There were screams and struggles followed by tears and balled up fists with white knuckles. My loneliness and desperation suffocated me. The sheer magnitude of the sadness surrounding these menial tasks was crushing.

The next morning I picked up the pieces. The nasty moment had indeed passed; we managed to smile again in the light of a new day. We loaded up and drove to the mountains to find beauty. As I often do, I posted about my journey on Instagram. A thoughtful co-worker and friend sent me a text that day. Saw your post. You're so brave. I appreciated her words even though I disagreed with her perception of me.

It doesn't feel like bravery to me. I did not choose or welcome this role. After all, I only step in as temporary caregiver a few weeks out of the year. Mom is sick and requires constant supervision. She can no longer follow simple instructions or communicate. Some days it feels like parenting a toddler, which I have not done in years. But it is what it is. She needs me. Dad cannot do it all alone. There is no choice; I must show up.

Earlier in my life, if I faced a scary situation that overwhelmed me, I would call mom and dad. Current circumstances frequently have me scanning the room desperately searching for someone to fix things, only to realize I am the only adult in the room. This cold reality still shocks my system. However, in the midst of it all, I am continually reminded that I am stronger than I think I am. I know that I do not have to handle every messy situation, nursing home, break down, or death all at once. I only need to breathe and get through one moment at a time. Put one foot in front of the other. These fleeting bouts of loneliness and panic are not here to stay. This too shall pass.

After this last stay with mom, my husband told me that she would be proud of me for the way I take care of her. I hope so. I know she would be so sad and appalled to be living this way. She would hate to be a burden. She would detest not having her hair fixed or wearing makeup each time she left the house. She would be humiliated by adult diapers. These truths hurt, but I also know she would feel loved in a big way. Maybe I am not brave, but mom would be proud to see that I stood as the adult in the room when she no longer could.

A Box Full of Stories

Story is such a source of nurture that we cannot become really true human beings for ourselves and for each other without story--and without finding ways in which to tell it, to share it, to create it, to encourage younger people to create their own story.

Vincent Harding (quoted in Becoming Wise by Krista Tippett)

In CrossFit, affiliates are referred to as boxes. People on the outside understandably think we are a bunch of weirdos with our own language and cultish behavior. We cheer for people exercising, grunt, move heavy objects, and subject ourselves to grueling workouts. There is no attempt to be comfortable. We push ourselves to the limits - dirty and sweaty living our lives by the clock. “3-2-1 Go!” We are a strange crew. But when I step into our box at CrossFit Jane, it is not loud, grunting people that I see walking around mobilizing with PVC pipes and foam rollers. I see stories in human form. There are stories of triumph, fight, transformation, and determination.

Recently, we welcomed a new class of graduates from our Fundamentals program, a required set of introductory classes for all beginners. I stood talking to one of these eager graduates before class one day.

You look around and see people working out, but I look around and see stories. The lady in the back has fought and beat cancer twice. That strong guy over there has lost close to 50 pounds and no longer takes any medications. That lady in the back has become a hero to her teenage daughters by seizing control of her nutrition and building strength; they now refer to her as a “CrossFit Beast.” And over there is a young lady who has scraped and pulled herself out from a pit of lifelong, debilitating depression. You don’t know all these stories yet, but you will learn them and add your own to our narrative.

Outsiders have no way of truly seeing what happens within a community of people all working to better themselves. There is no room for judging or pointing fingers. We are too busy cheering for each other. There is a slogan that we celebrate progress, not perfection. As cliche as it might sound, it is true. We are all on a journey one day at a time.

Awhile back I started a Throwback Thursday (#tbt) campaign to highlight some of the better versions of people within our community. I use the infamous side-by-side before and after pictures and offer a glimpse into their transformation story. Everyone loves a good success story. We love to jump on board and praise people for their hard work. But then a blogger, Dallas Hartwig, who I really admire and respect, wrote that he does not believe in before and after shots. They are too focused on the physical appearance, disregarding inner health and wellness. Oops. This idea really stopped me in my tracks. By celebrating transformations, was I contributing to a society obsessed with body image? Was I perpetuating unhealthy trends that encourage people to “earn their bodies” or “look better naked” instead of celebrating overall transformations of health and wellness?

I have given a lot of thought to this conundrum. I was using this opportunity to brag on people I care about,  but did I miss the forest for the trees? It is true I do not believe that before and after pictures capture the essence of the entire transformation. Clothing sizes and body shape can change, but so can confidence, attitudes and self image. When I see these pictures, I see the stories behind the sparkle in their eyes. I know that dad is now confidently coaching his son’s soccer team, when before he hid on the sidelines ashamed, unable to keep up with the day’s activities. I know that behind that beautiful smile there is a woman who refuses to roll over and let the same diseases cut her life short that affected her family members. I know that in the after picture, I am seeing a mother of four who has decided to make her health a priority after spending years catering to her children and neglecting herself. I know that athlete has not touched a drop of alcohol in 604 days. I know these stories and more.

I am thankful that Hartwig’s comments made me question and evaluate the attitude that I am promoting. I desire to be intentional and consistent with the message I send out into the world. The truth is, there are so many stories of success that would not be evident in a side-by-side comparison of then and now. Many athletes have not experienced dramatic alterations in their physical appearance, but they have undergone life-changing internal changes, leading to a happier, healthier, more confident self. A picture would not do these changes justice. You would need to talk to these people. Hear their stories. Take time to truly listen. Be inspired. Be motivated. Then get back to work on your own story.