The Art of Hiding

For my first job as a trainer, I was required to sign an agreement that I would follow a healthy diet, exercise regularly and maintain a proper weight as I was an example to the gym members (including my own clients).  It was another "moment" of success for me on my transformation journey.  I had gone from the 300 pound client unable to safely walk on a treadmill to an example of health.  I was on top of my game, was no longer pursuing fat loss, and felt like I had arrived at my final transformational destination.  It was almost as if I was immune to the weight and health problems that plagued my life for nearly 3 decades.  There was nothing to hide and I was truly living my best life in full color, out loud, and with no regrets.  I was no longer vulnerable to the shame and criticism that sadly so often accompanies those of us who struggle with weight.  I had escaped!   

For so many years I felt trapped, and I felt like I had to hide.  I had to hide my weight, my body, my lack of knowledge, my "lack of will power", my need to self-sooth with food, my desire to exercise and learn weights (how dare I yearn for that kind of knowledge?), and pretty much everything about myself.   Deeply-rooted shame played a big part in that (and deserves it's own post).  I didn't feel worthy because I wasn't perfect.  I have learned much about shame in the last 6 or so years.  To keep it short, it is toxic and it breeds in the darkness of secrecy and the art of hiding.  "Hide who you really are until you become acceptable" was on auto-play in my brain.  And I must admit, I STILL had to work on flushing those thoughts out of my mind even well in to my trainer years.  Yet somehow, being at the peak of health made them a little quieter.  

Then, a couple of years ago, life had some unexpected curve balls for me.  Ones I didn't expect or even know how to play through.  I buried a baby (one I had looked forward to for many years), lost two more through miscarriage, and struggled with chronic unexplained illness along with depression. I moved from thriving to surviving.  That survival mode seduced me back to old habits that included sowing the seeds in the weedy garden of shame. I had no beautiful little bundle to "excuse" obvious weight gain that has take a toll on me both physically and emotionally.  Just walking in to a gym (where I once thrived as an example of health) became a walk of shame.  I was/am an out of shape personal trainer, and exhausted at just the thought of the girl I once was - living out loud with no hiding.  I forever carry the burden of grieving a child I will never snuggle, see walk or hear talk - at least not in this life.  That never goes away, and there is a hint of shame for something being "wrong" or "broken" with my body.  And, let's not forget the side effects of medications and such trying to fix said brokenness.    

Hiding has become my mode of survival, and I have successfully been doing so since those curve balls came.  It is easier to hide from people, especially when life has given me so many reasons to find a good dark place and shut the world out.  Hiding has soothed the broken and disconnected things in my life, and for a time brought much needed peace.  But "that girl" - that Moxie - in me keeps trying to let the light in and uncover my hiding places, and so I am trying each day to be a little better. Taking one toe-at-a-time step out of the darkness hoping the light won't blind me.  Today was one such day, and while at the gym (I joined a gym where nobody knew me as trainer), I was watching "Joy" in the cardio cinema, having a great running/walking session.    Half-watching, half listening to Pandora, I stopped as the main character hit me with a truth bomb.   While feeling overwhelmed by what she was trying to accomplish but also feeling like she is failing at every turn, she has a dream where she is talking to her younger self.  The sweet little-girl version of her (dare I say her Moxie) says, 

 "When you're hiding, you're safe because people can't see you.

 But, funny thing about hiding..you're even hidden from yourself."

No words could have shocked my soul with truth today as these could have.  I am good at the art of hiding, but I don't like the way it makes me feel.  Isolated, ashamed, and exhausted.  But the worst part is that as I am hiding from the world and other people, I have lost myself.  I have lost my smile.  Ironically, I have lost my joy.  I am stepping out of the shadows, working through my weed garden of shame, and hopefully finding my self and letting my Moxie take the lead again.  We are a good team.