"I want to do it because i want to do it."
- Amelia Earhart
Just after my second child was born, my body felt entirely broken. I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong and I was filled with shame about the whole thing. BIG SHAME.
You see, I had spent my entire adult life as a Pilates teacher, a core specialist, and a corrective exercise specialist. But, there I was, left not only with extreme back pain, but a giant postpartum “pooch” and a sticky-outie belly button that was clearly herniated. And no matter how much I applied all the skills and tricks I had earned over the years of my education, NOTHING worked. Nothing.
Dear daughters of mine:
You don’t know this, but I end every day glancing at you after you fall asleep, wishing I had done it all better. Wishing I had hugged you more, been more patient when you lost your noggin over the love bugs that were uncatchable, said yes to playing tag one more time, looked you in the eyes when you asked me questions instead of being lost in my adulting brain, ignored my phone in the afternoons when you need me most, and cooked the sort of meals that you’ll talk about with homesickness, instead of always grumpily making the same old stuff in rotation like a side order chef in a washed up greasy restaurant …
I lost my way a bit.
Edit: I lost my way a lot.
The wheels fell off the vehicle I’ve been driving and that vehicle was a giant monster truck of expectation, grandiosity, pressure, shoulds, and strategy. Honestly, it’s fucking great that that vehicle is no longer usable, but damn ... I thought I needed it to get through this weird endless freeway of life.
You see, when you’re in business, the world will tell you to get bigger …
I have one main question for you to consider today:
What if you are just hungry?
What if your late night binging, your belly bloat, your mushy muscles, your puffiness, your mood swings, your endocrine stuff, your metabolism, your diastasis recti, your achey back ...
What if you are just hungry?
Tis the season that I get to watch incredible humans give their health authority over to fitness freaks.
Yes, I am talking to the incredible human that is YOU. I know you’ve seen an uptick in your sponsored ads over the last few days, with dreamy six packs and die-hard burpee-ers and snazzy leggings. And I KNOW you’ve been like, maybe this year, maybe I’m ready. MAYBE. Which means that you then fall into one of two categories of New Year Strength Finders:
I tried to save a baby squirrel two days ago, in the midst of Hurricane Harvey.
I found him in the mud, right below his nest in an oak tree in my backyard. His big paws and and fluffy tail were submerged in the liquid muck, making him appear an aquatic creature. With the help of my daughters and an amazing comrade in my life, we quickly delivered him safely into a box as we googled, “How to save a baby squirrel.”
I decided this summer to make my experience of motherhood visible. This was sort of a big deal, as I had 6 clinics scheduled back to back (Houston, Seattle, DC, Boston, NYC, and San Fran). During those clinics, in each location, I was also needing to be available for a multitude of important media and meetings, all parts ...
When I was 24, just a few months before I got pregnant with my first kiddo, I traveled to Ecuador to live with the Shuar tribe in the Amazon jungle for a couple of weeks. It was through a college course, designed to focus on non-Western modalities for healing.
I learned a lot.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. While the rest of the fitness world continues to workout because they’re hoping to birth their inner toned goddesses, I’ll be over here working out so that I don’t lose my sh*t.
When the whole world goes YAYYYYYYYYYYYY and Instagram pictures get all beachy and drinks get cold and ... guess what? You, dear momma, are like, “Um, wait. Dishes? Boogers? Interrupted sleep? Where’s my summer break?”
I always feel like summertime is a colorful ferris wheel ride of fun that never has a seat for me.