Lots and lots of stuff going on!

I moved into my new house this past weekend with the help of 14 great friends and a 1.25 month old baby. I have to absolutely brag about my friends and how grateful I am for them -- you have to be a great friend to get up at 8 AM to avoid the 105F projected high, and to work in 90F, humid weather to move me out of my second floor apartment. I felt so loved. It sounds cheesy to say that, but seriously I thought in the middle of this "Wow, they are willing to give this huge chunk of their Saturdays for me? And get up so early on Saturday?! And help even though this historically hot weather smothers you the moment you walk outside?!" I was (and am) incredibly grateful for their help, and the spirit behind their help. Beyond the friends who helped with the move itself, there was a friend who stopped by to bring us cold drinks. There was another who watched someone's little daughter because she was pregnant and didn't feel comfortable doing all the lifting, and this freed up two more friends to be able to help. It was a real team effort and I was unspeakably grateful for and humbled by everyone's help. For someone who had a very long and hard season of isolation and crushing loneliness in Arkansas, it was incredible to realize how vast and rich my pool of friends here is now. Again, gratitude is the word that comes to mind -- not only for their help in moving, but for their friendship and for having them in my lives. I am so so blessed and grateful for each of them.

Along these lines, I had a birthday almost two weeks ago now. I think it was the best birthday I've had in probably 10 years. I loved it. My license expired this year so I had to get a new one. It was shocking to compare the new picture with the old. I am so much skinnier looking in this new one; in fact, I could not believe that I had a sleeveless dress on (I didn't think about having to take a license picture when I got dressed that morning -- let's blame my blondness) and that it looks really good in the picture. I then met my friend/new roommate for lunch, ran some more errands, went over to a friend's house (the one with baby Benson, my move in helper), and then met another friend for frozen yogurt where she had a very thoughtful surprise from my mom -- a beautiful bunch of gerbera daisies which are my favorite.

The day was so full (not in an "I'm running around and can't cram a single other thing in the day" kind of way, but in an "I can't believe what a good day this is, and my heart is about to burst" way.). It was only afterward when I reflected on it how different it was from the previous years' birthdays in Arkansas. Previously since I had very few friends in Arkansas, the way I celebrated my birthdays was with food. I'd let myself eat whatever I wanted in whatever amounts I wanted and say that that was just a part of celebrating. In contrast, this year I barely thought about food. Yes, I met friends for lunch/dinner, but food was really in the backdrop and not in the forefront of why we were getting together -- the real reason was to celebrate and have fun together, not to eat for the sake of eating. I thought to myself "THIS is what normal people must feel like around food" -- and it was not lost on me that, at least for the day, I fell into that category of people who were treating food as a part of the background of their lives, not in the starring role. I was amazed and, again, I felt very grateful.

It is incredible to think about how much God has blessed me in the last year, in very unexpected ways. I distinctly remember my birthday last year. I felt probably the worst I have ever felt in my life. I had been diagnosed with depression a few weeks earlier, and somehow putting a label on the emptiness I felt made me even a little sadder. I spent a good chunk of my day crying face down on the floor of my apartment thinking, "This is just not right. Life should not be like this." I was so lonely and sad and I felt utterly defeated. It was on that day that I gave myself permission to leave Arkansas. I cried and thought, "I have no good friends in Arkansas." I felt very strongly the voice of God whispering to me, "I am your friend." It sounds crazy -- well, it is crazy -- but it was unmistakable to me. I cry just writing about it.

I decided I would give myself one year. I would try in earnest to make friends one last time. I had already tried everything I knew to do (and my counselors agreed that the list was long and that I HAD tried a lot) one more time -- and if it didn't work out again this time, I would leave in a year with no guilt and absolutely no remorse.

The move to a place just across town (not out of the state, as I had contemplated a year earlier) and my birthday are a testament to how much God has helped me to make friends here. My friends here have affirmed that I am not weird (at least not enough to justify my having no friends), that I am valued, and that they love me -- and after the drought of local friends, the value of this is immeasurable and I in no way take this for granted.

There are other things I would have never guessed would happen over the last year -- moving in with a roommate after living alone for 10 years, joining a 12-step program, getting a year's extension on my tenure clock -- but I see God's hand in every one and am convinced this is what He has for me in this season of life. I want to learn every lesson and enjoy every day because His plan is best for me.

Just a quick update on life. It is really a great season of life right now, and for this I am unspeakably grateful especially after such a hard three year stretch after I first moved to Arkansas. The fullness and richness of life is certainly not lost on me.

(And by the way, the food part is going pretty well these days too. Again, I'm grateful.)

Irony

The title of my blog is that food will not define me forever. The genesis of the title is that nearly everything I used to do or think about revolved around food. Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but if so it is only a very slight exaggeration. I realized that having so many obsessive thoughts about food was extremely unhealthy and I vowed to change it. And I've made huge strides. But it's funny that a lot of my identity with some of my friends is still tied up in food. Let me explain...

I counted the other day and I have literally 15+ friends who are currently pregnant. I'm not exaggerating for effect; I literally have that many friends expecting kids, which is both great and kind of underscoring where I am in my life and where they are in theirs which makes me feel...well, I don't know. But that's not the point of this post.

For the friends in my community group having babies, we are planning on helping them by bringing meals soon after they deliver their children. This is a great service and I am so glad that we will be able to do this for them. I hope that it in some small way makes their transition to parenthood just a little bit easier.

It's funny, though, because I've only joined the group about a year ago and no one has had kids in that time -- hence, no meal sign up sheets for meal delivery service. People in the group are now so excited that I will be in the rotation to bring them food. They've made several comments about being so glad that I will cook for them, really looking forward to my meal, etc. I'll be honest and say there's a little performance anxiety it's causing!

Most of all, I take it as a complement -- that they enjoy my cooking, that they're looking forward to my meal. I am grateful to be able to serve them in this small way that I really enjoy (I like cooking a lot).

It's just funny that this one thing that I've worked so hard to have a functional relationship with and to move out of the center of my life (food) is a big piece of how people in this group view me. They enjoy my cooking (which is great and a good thing), but it is just funny given that I've worked so hard to distance myself from having food at the center of my life. Irony, for sure.

I told them and I will tell those of you who are my friends -- you don't have to get pregnant for me to cook for you. If you ask nicely, I will probably be more than happy to invite you over and cook for you. I really do find joy in cooking and sharing meals with others, even if it doesn't and won't define me.

Upper Yosemite Falls Trail Hike

Me and Kristi at the bottom of Yosemite Falls. We climbed the whole way up!

So, as I said last post, I did it. I climbed up to the very top of Yosemite Falls and it was really no small feat: 7.6 miles round trip with an elevation gain of 2500 ft (that’s twice the height of the Empire State Building for those keeping track at home). And let me tell you...I don’t think I’ve had a more physically demanding experience in my life, or a physical demand with such a huge emotional high at the end. Let me chronicle the journey for you.

I got up at 3 AM Friday so I could shower and catch my 6 AM flight. I flew to Reno, where I rented a car. Google maps told me I had a 4.5 hour trip to Yosemite ahead of me. What it didn’t know about this trip is that it would actually be 10 hours due to navigational errors and seasonal road closures I wasn’t aware of, and that I’d get the first speeding ticket since I was 18 (I guess we'll be glad for the 13 year streak…). Sigh. I finally made it to Yosemite Friday at 10 PM, and was frustrated, disgruntled and tired. That all went away, though, when I saw my friend Kristi who I hadn’t seen since our November trip to Disney. It is always so very very great to see her, and was even greater when I learned some exciting personal updates about her life! She and I stayed up until 1 AM chatting and catching up – and yes, for those of you keeping track of the time difference, that is a full 24 hours of being awake for me. That’s really not the way I roll (I get 7 hrs of sleep/night like clockwork). It was a small price to pay to see Kristi and to have arrived in such a beautiful place (even though I could not tell it was beautiful under cover of darkness!).

The next morning I woke up at 7:30 AM. The good thing about being so tired was that I acclimated to Pacific time from central with no problem! Kristi and I got a slow start – eating a big breakfast, making sure to pack a healthy lunch and a lot of snacks for our hike, checking out the visitor’s center, seeing Yosemite Falls from the ground – before we finally started up the trail around 12:30. The hike was supposed to take 6-8 hours, so we all figured we’d be fine and back on the ground by sunset around 8 PM. And I would be remiss if I did not mention that the weather was perfect -- very slightly overcast with a high of around 60-65. PERFECT weather to be outside.

An overview of the trail. 135+ switchbacks. 7.6 miles roundtrip. ~2600 ft elevation gain.

When the hike started, I had serious serious stomach issues. I was not feeling well AT ALL and was not even sure the hike was a good idea because I felt so badly. I knew deep down that I would regret it if I did not at least TRY the hike so I decided to go despite stabbing stomach pains. About ¼ - ½ mile into the hike let’s just say the spirit moved in a major way (TMI) and I was feeling a whole lot better. I was glad that I had decided to press on and was now sure that I would make it up the mountain. A little bit later we stopped for lunch. I had the first PBJ I’d had in probably 3-4 years and wow it was great! I also had some fruit and a string cheese, and then we soldiered on up the mountain. The first 1-2 miles were not that bad. Some switchbacks, yes, but the rocks weren't slippery or unstable feeling, and I was grateful for whoever had constructed such a cool trail to the top. We made it to an overlook and I was feeling pretty good. I definitely wasn’t fast, but I thought “I’ve so got this.”

Us at the first big outlook. It is after the first set of switchbacks. A lot of people quit the trail here, but not us!! Great view of Half Dome in the background.

We then hit an odd part of the trail that took us downhill for like ¼ mile. For anyone trying to reach the top of anything (mountain, waterfall, whatever), you know that extended stretches of downhill are not good when your goal is to go uphill. Finally, though, we started to go uphill again. This is where things got bad.

The last part of Upper Yosemite Falls trail is steep, long, and has lots of slippery, unstable rocks. My psoas was spasming with nearly every step I took. It hurt so so badly.

…and this stretch of the trail was where I learned I was not in as good a shape as I thought I was and that my friend Kristi may truly be the most patient person on the planet. I googled it and found that there are more than 135 switchbacks to the top of the falls. I started off able to do 2-3 switchbacks before needing a break. It got to the point where I would need to rest once or twice EACH switchback. Kristi never got annoyed or impatient, and was incredibly encouraging. It was incredible. Although I seriously (and I mean it literally and not for dramatic effect) considered turning back twice, I didn't. And it was due in no small part to Kristi's encouragement. She is such a great friend and was so kind to be so helpful and patient.

This might give you an idea how steep and rocky the trail was. But probably not -- I think you have to see it to believe it.

Finally we made it to the top. And would you believe I did not get a single picture? I am virtually certain we had some taken, but I think the camera was switched to the wrong setting because I'll be darned if I didn't get to the bottom and learn that we had no pictures. So so sad.

But I will never forget it at the top. To actually get to the overlook you had to go over these extremely scary stairs (with no guard rail) cut out of the side of a rock face. Despite my exhaustion and fear of heights, I DID IT and Kristi and I enjoyed a beautiful dinner at the top around 5:30. We enjoyed it and I almost cried because I was so proud of myself. It was a full circle moment to have made it to the top of the falls; the fact that I used to not be able to climb a single flight of stairs without getting winded certainly wasn't lost on me.

Scary scary stairs to get to the overlook -- yes, you had to go downhill after climbing and climbing uphill. Crazy. But serious gratitude and props to those who made this trail and these stairs!!!

The way back down? I thought it would be a lot easier than it was. And I definitely thought it would be a lot faster than the way up. I will say this: it killed my knees and we didn't make it to the bottom until 9:30. Fortunately I had bought a headlamp and I had it with me because, even with the headlamp, it was one of the scariest things I'd done in my life. However, we made it unscathed and I was so so proud.

View from the top of the Falls. Yes, I stole this picture from someone online (as I did with the pictures of the trail and the stairs).

And more than being proud I was sore. My psoas was killing me (the uphills). My hamstrings killed me (the uphills). My quads killed me (the downhills). My knees killed me (the downhills). My back was killing me (the stress and exhaustion and the fact that I just have back problems). It. was. rough.

I thought I would be ravenous but honestly I just wanted to go to stretch and go to bed. I did have some pizza, but only two or three pieces -- my body just was not up for more, despite the fact that I'd done 9 hours of hiking. I thought I'd go to bed and sleep for 12 hours; however, I just slept for 7. I guess that's all my body wanted/needed. Strange.

I will say that this is the toughest thing I think I've ever done physically. I felt pushed to and past my limits. Though I wanted to die at times, I made it. And it was sooo worth it. I won't forget it. It makes me want to get in shape and be able to breeze up the falls next time -- and I will be SURE to get a picture before I leave :)

Community and Friends

I have written posts lamenting my lack of friends and posting what a hard time I had transitioning to life in Arkansas and as a real adult. I am pleased to announce that I finally have friends here! Real, genuine, we actually have a lot in common, I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me friends! What a blessing.

It is funny, I had myself convinced there for awhile that I "didn't need friends" and that I "was independent and liked to do stuff without having to please others" and that being alone "allowed me freedom that I didn't want to give up". And, while there are shreds of truth in the last two statements at least, they're mostly lies and coping mechanisms that helped me to feel better. I can assure you that having friends is so much better than not having them.

I think people were designed to be in community. My therapist has even told me that I am someone who functions better in relationships than out of them (not the romantic variety, just relationships in general). He is right. I need friends and am so glad that I have some now.

I am grateful for friends who accept me for who I am -- an emotional overeater, someone who is caring and thoughtful, someone who deals with depression, a professor, someone who can be compulsive, someone who is successful and intellegent, someone who is passionate, someone who is pretty liberal and has a gay brother. They take the good with the bad, and don't try to "fix" me or judge me or convince me that I'm wrong if they disagree. I think I do the same for them -- 'cause that's what friends do. I am so grateful to have them in my lives, adding to and enhancing my existing network of friends who I don't live near anymore. I felt I owed you guys an update on that since I shared the bad with you on that one, and now I have good news to share :)