Wandering Through Nothingness

 

I’m going to just go there. Come on. I haven’t visited a hot topic in a while.

So, here it is.

Food.

Yep, that’s right.

Food.

We all have a relationship with it…kind of like a family member. We bring her in, sit her down and spend a lot of time with her. Sometimes she is entertaining, at other times she is comforting and then there are other times when she is all business, satisfying our hunger and strengthening our bodies.

Our relationship with her is often rooted in the “filters” those around us used,  when we were young.  For girls and women the relationship between food, fat, beauty and self-worth is incredibly powerful and connected through a context, that while completely made-up, feels very real…especially during that vulnerable period we call adolescence.   As a matter of fact, in one study, the number one fear for 81 percent of 10 year old girls was “getting fat.”

That’s right. It’s not nuclear war, death or global warming. It’s getting fat. (And might I add, ironically that we are, as everyone knows, dealing with an obesity crisis.  Interesting how that which we fear the most, rather than being removed by our fear, might actually attract it.  I’m jusssss sayin’.)

My first peek into an awareness of how food can be so deeply entrenched in my psyche and the filters through which I have viewed the world occurred when I was 26. I was training for my first triathlon. I became increasingly concerned with what food I put into my body. The caloric count, number of carbohydrates, fat grams and protein amounts I ingested were an important part of my training regimen. To be honest with you, I wasn’t a whole lot of fun to be around.

I was eating out with friends at a Mexican restaurant and per my usual and much disciplined self, ordered the salad. “Would you like that in a bowl or a tortilla shell?”

I rolled my eyes. “Dang. You mean I have to decide. Why don’t you decide for me?”

“Tortilla, of course!” the waitress responded.

I devoured that salad. I was hungry. Training for an endurance event like the Ironman requires a lot of fuel and RE-fuel after an intense series of run, bike and swim workouts.

And there I was, at meal’s end, up against the ropes…it was me versus the tortilla bowl. Our boxing gloves were on and the fight was fueling up. Who would win? I backed into the corner of my mind and tried to pretend it wasn’t there. But it just kept taking those visual jabs at me.

A left first, next a hard right and then I caved. I broke off a small piece. I ate it. It was good. So I broke off another piece. I ate that one too and I’ll be darned. It was good too! I ate that entire bowl, in teen tiny bits and pieces.

By the time I was done, there was nothing left but the oily wax paper on the plate beneath. My plate was empty, my stomach was full, and the shame was initially unbearable. Her voice was whiny, shallow and judgmental. My food/shame filter fully in “download mode”, spoke very clearly. “Molly, you were doing so well…at least until you got to that bowl. How could you? Is this in line with your training program? Is it? Molly, I’m asking you? Is it? IS IT?”

And in that moment…a little light bulb went off. I realized, as simple as this sounds, that the Molly who walked into the restaurant is no different from the Molly who just finished that darn bowl. I am strong, athletic, articulate and funny. I am kind, caring and compassionate. Whether the tortilla bowl is in or out of my belly has absolutely NO effect on who I am…you know that deep spirit of me, the one that is always, forever and being. The food I put into my mouth doesn’t define who I am. I am undefinable, wordless and nothing…until I decide that I am.  For a brief and incredibly beautiful moment, I was able to step back and observe the stinkin’ tortilla bowl for what it was…a tortilla bowl.

I’ll admit I’m a little embarrassed to be sharing this moment with you. I’ll also admit that I’m 50 now and had plenty of time to develop a “functional” relationship with food, but it can all still be very, very complicated. Most of the time it’s healthy, but sometimes when I’m stressed, tired, or anxious I may reach for those boxing gloves again and go a few rounds with myself. And if I’m really honest about it, to suggest that it can sometimes have a kind of power over me…well…makes me feel shallow, hollow and a little silly for admitting it. Talking about it is a bit like being caught right out of the shower. Somehow owning up to how we view food reveals something about our vulnerabilities, bared there for all to see.

And I guess, if we have to come completely clean, we’ve gotta also take a pretty hard look at how we judge other people based on how their bodies show up in the world.  Am I not only using the beauty/weight/food filter to harshly judge myself, but also others?  Ewww.  It’s kind of hard to turn it around.

And yet, as I write to you now, and take this brief and beautiful moment, to examine the truly ridiculous and downright outrageous cultural belief that somehow our appearance is a measure of our worth to the world…well it simply makes me laugh out loud.  Yep, right here, right now, I am letting go a LAUGH OUT LOUD kind of chuckle.

Now…certainly there is some providence found in nurturing our bodies in such a way that they flourish and can serve as a healthy vessel for the spirit housed within, but certainly our worth, power and contribution to the world cannot be solely measured by a number on a scale or whether we show up as “culturally beautiful or not.”  Have you really ever pondered the craziness of such a notion?” REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT?  It’s crazy…yes…and simply put, it does NOT make sense  :)

Believe me; I’ve had my share of issues. (Who hasn’t?) As many of you know, my numero uno challenge was alcohol…but food, exercise, relationships…they’ve all sat down for dinner with me on occasion, to test, challenge and, at times, shake me into confronting my own feelings of self-worth and where my real power comes from. 

These days, Tortilla bowls, Reese’s peanut butter cups and my Marjohn’s pastries all have a place in the Molly Barker “food for life” pyramid. So too does moderate exercise, veggies,daily hugs, plenty of water, fresh fruit, lots of laughter, my best try at 8 hours of sleep and love. Yep, that’s right love is on that pyramid, right there at the top!

It’s all connected to my living a healthy, honest, forgiving, evolving and full life.

What role does food play in your life and how has it changed over the years?  Why do you think we all buy into this belief that  our beauty (and weight) are somehow a measure of our worth to the world and/or a conduit to happiness.

And to see the fact cited here and other ones as it relates to our behaviors around food, check out this website:

http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/uploads/file/in-the-news/NEDA-In-the-News-Fact-Sheet%282%29.pdf

Also to be a part of changing perspectives and eliminating this particular filter check out my good friend Caitlin Boyle’s amazing project.  She is creating a beauty revolution one sticky note at a time at http://www.operationbeautiful.com.  Her work will rock you to your core…so simple and so powerful…both captured in one small action.

I’ve been traveling so much lately. I always come home with a strong dose of gratitude. Gratitude for the amazing women and men connected to our GOTR movement.  Time on planes, in cars and alone in my hotel room, gives me plenty of time to think, imagine and dream. I realize that we really are not creating a movement, but are part of one that is already happening. This new definition of beauty is showing up everywhere and I’m finding that the women and men involved in our program are as impacted and as moved by this message as are the girls we serve.  This is where Leigh’s story comes in.  Leigh Wallace is with one of our Girls on the Run councils. I had the privilege of meeting her several months ago at one of our Girls on the Run trainings in Charlotte, NC.

Over the course of two days, women from across the nation descend on Charlotte, NC for a very intense Girls on the Run training. Participants take back tangible tools and systems to efficiently deliver the Girls on the Run program…but what remains with me are their stories. Frequently wrapped into and around a woman’s story are her struggles in battling our culture’s obsession (and our buy-into that context/filter) with bodies, sexuality and power.

I’ve got to be honest with you, when I met Leigh I was intimidated by her. Her physical strength is obvious. She is one of the strongest-looking females I’ve ever met. Her energy, though, was a bit reserved…probably intimidated by my extroversion and wide open persona…a kind of mutual intimidation society, if you will…me of her physical presence and she, of my emotional one.

After a day together, Leigh e-mailed me her story.

As a little girl, Leigh was tough. In her words, “I was the athletic girl in my grade and this made me popular with the boys. I knew that they respected my athletic ability and my power and I really liked that. I didn’t feel pretty, but I guess I probably thought I was cute in a way. I didn’t see myself as a tomboy but I did relate well to boys and worked very hard to prove to them that even though I was a girl, I could still do most of what they could do”

But something happened around middle school. Like many girls, Leigh began to filter much of her self-worth through a context we’ve named the Girl Box, a filter which girls often begin using around sixth grade with heartbreaking results. At this vulnerable age, the formerly vibrant and strong Leigh began to think they must morph into a girl overly-occupied by her appearance. First it showed up as restricting her food intake and then it appeared as over-indulgence. There seemed to be no end to the madness and yet, running was the one safe space in the day where Leigh felt some degree of control. She won championship races in 9th and 10th grade and got 3rd her senior year in the Kansas State Championships.

Appalachian State came knocking at her door and so the move to Boone brought with it an opportunity to buckle down, focus on her love for running and get on track with her eating. With a renewed sense of self and a desire for comfort in her skin, Leigh appeared on the ASU campus.

But changing locations didn’t prove to be the remedy she had hoped. With her continued obsession with weight, Leigh was sidelined by stress fractures and distracted by her roller-coaster relationship with the scales. Her first year at ASU certainly didn’t shake out to be what she had hoped.

And then IT happened.

September 29th, 1989 Leigh set out on an early evening run. Planning to be back by 6:30, she and her boyfriend (now husband) would then go out for a nice dinner together.

A light rain began to fall when the car slowly approached. A very scary man sat at the wheel. “Get in,” he demanded, pointing to the passenger seat with his gun. Not knowing what to do, Leigh agreed.

What occurred over the next several hours is unthinkable. He drove Leigh to a remote area outside of Boone. With a frightening and disturbing sense of calm and coolness, he raped her while psychologically tormenting her with threats of death. At first, before the numb set in, all she could think about was how loved she was. “My mother will miss me when I die,” she thought. A strange sense of gratitude seemed to float down upon her shoulders, as the violence raged around her…an overwhelming and gentle gratitude for her body, her friends, her family and her life.

Hour after hour, the torment continued. Somewhere over the course of that time frame, Daniel Lee, shared with her that he had murdered another girl-Jeni Gray. He calmly described her slow, cruel and painful death and threatened to do the same to Leigh.

Leigh managed to escape from Daniel Lee, hours later at a gas station. At the trial, as Leigh testified, she intentionally stared her tormenter in the eyes…her proof to him and herself that she wasn’t weaker because of this experience but was much stronger. Daniel Lee received the death penalty for murdering Jeni Gray. He died in prison, several years later, from a brain aneurysm.

After the kidnapping, Leigh was stronger, indeed. She went on to become a 2-time Southern Conference All-Conference performer in cross country. In track she was named the Southern Conference Most Outstanding Performer. Upon graduation, she continued to train on her own and compete. She won several state and regional races and ran her 5K PR of 16:56. She teaches and coaches at the high school level…many of them to victory in the state championships. Now, Leigh is prepared to engage 3rd, 4th and 5th graders in the Girls on the Run program.

She is married with two children, wanting first and foremost to be remembered as a remarkable mother, not an elite runner. She is loved, respected and embraced by her family, her community and at last, herself.

I share this with you because it’s important that our culture honors women like Leigh…that we stop buying into and filtering our thoughts through antiquated ideals of beauty and recreate them to include the stories of women who are strong, brave and authentic. As I read her story that she so openly shared with me, I wept…my head in my hands and my heart in my throat, wondering…how I could possibly honor someone as brave, courageous and bold as she. And as I write to you, right now, I recognize that no words could ever do justice to the pain of her experience, nor the power she has gained from it. But what I can offer comes from Leigh herself.

“I don’t know…I guess I just love to inspire people. I love to see that light go on when someone realizes that being strong is one of the greatest feelings in the world…and to know that running makes you just as strong mentally as it does physically! To know that no matter what life’s circumstances are and no matter how hard the world may seem to be trying to hold you back, that our own personal strength and belief in ourselves is something that no one can take away without our permission. I believe this more than I believe anything and am committed to helping others believe it too.”

Leigh is, without a doubt, strength, beauty and Girls on the Run personified.   She found in her place of forced nothingness, the courage to be, share and become love.

What is your take away after reading Leigh’s story?  How does someone overcome such a traumatic experience to emerge so strong, content and peaceful? I’d love to for you to share.