The Swing of Things

"Getting settled" is a bit foreign to me. How does one get settled? How does one get the swing of things?

When I moved away from my childhood hometown to my high school and college hometown, I cried a lot and had a rough time adjusting.

When I moved to college, a whole five minutes from my parent's house, I cried a lot and had a rough time adjusting.

When I moved to Mexico for a semester, I cried a lot and had a rough time adjusting.

When I moved in with my new husband forty minutes from home, I cried a lot and had a rough time adjusting.

When I moved to Washington one week ago, I cried a lot and I'm having a rough time adjusting.

Apparently that is what "getting settled" means to me. 

In every single situation, what helped me to move past my roller coaster of emotions was routine. A purpose. Something I had to focus on. When I literally don't have time to think, to focus on the change, to project all the horrible (and usually unlikely) possibilities of the future, I fall into routine and feel just fine. The reality of my world seems right and much less frightening. I usually find that everything I've been so afraid of is much better than I had thought. Isn't that how it generally goes?

Well, I'm not at that point yet with this most recent move. But I want to be. Rather than waiting for my surroundings to miraculously give me that settled feeling, I'm being proactive this time. 

Yesterday, I drove to town and ran errands all by myself. One of my big fears about moving is always getting lost. I'm terrible with directions. Simply awful. So when I was able to get to the gym and to Safeway and back home again without getting lost once I was pretty excited. For me, that is an accomplishment.

[Side note: I'm also afraid of the gym. There are skinny, buff people there. When I went to the one at our apartment complex, I went with Kevin - and it was small. Baby steps. So yesterday, walking into the gym was so intimidating. I found the ellipticals. I scouted out the situation. There, in between two gym goers was the machine which most closely resembled the one I used at our old place. Usually I would choose a machine at least one space away from anyone else. You know, like at the movie theater or church? You don't want to sit by people unless you have to or you know them well. So, even though this elliptical was sandwiched in there, I marched right up and claimed my vehicle to future fitness. Once I was on there for a while, I was feeling pretty good! I was moving right along, actually faster than the gal to my right. I glanced at Keeping Up with the Kardashians on her TV once in a while and silently rocked out to my Workout Playlist. I even noticed an awesome rock wall in the middle of the gym and decided I would climb it someday. I was feeling fierce and on top of the world. Then, some blonde, with legs for days, waltzed over to the elliptical machines and reminded me of my noob-ness. She pumped on that thing like an expert. Perfect rhythm. She would do some two-step move each time she switched directions, without missing a beat. And she was moving at least twice as fast as I was. She was tiny, fit, and tan. I called her a not-so-nice name in my head. And possibly out loud when I was telling Kevin my story later on. But I won't tell. And he won't either. Spousal privilege.]

Driving around our new town, figuring out how to get to Safeway so we can eat, how to get to the gym so I can torture myself, and back home so Kevin's State Trooper brother-in-law won't have to come looking for me- all good things. Especially good for helping me to get the swing of things. But that's just part of it. I need more routine than that.

So I'm making one. I don't have a job right now (possibly the first time since I was a senior in high school or living abroad) and therefor don't have a schedule made for me. Kevin is studying for the bar exam everyday, so we are making a schedule for that - but that leaves hours for me to use up. The little things help. Tuesdays and Thursdays are our laundry days. Since we are sharing a well with two other households, we had to schedule out laundry so it doesn't dry up. And since I want to go to the gym at least three times a week, I'll go the other days: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I'm sure there will be variances once in a while, but this is a good start for a Planner like me.

We get up, let MacDuff relieve himself, make coffee, eat breakfast, do a short devotion, and Kevin goes to study (in the spare bedroom/office) until lunch. There are always little projects for me to do. Picture frames to fill and hang, laundry, exercising, grocery shopping, dishes, sweeping, vacuuming, managing our budget, meal planning, playing/dealing with puppy... 

And part of why I'm not working this month is so that I can relax a bit. I'm so bad at that. But I will give it my best shot. I'm thinking reading, blogging (of course), making our wedding albums (prints and scrapbook), Facebook (duh), that kind of thing. It turns out I'm not very good at relaxing. I feel like there's always some chore I should be doing instead. How very much like my mother I am. So, like my newly retired Mama, I'm trying to allow myself moments of rest and relaxation.

I'm not great at spontaneity. I like plans and routine. Shocking, I know. But I also know that I crave down time that isn't planned down to the minute. Those are the times that I see God best, when I see the blessings in our life, and feel fulfilled and not so drained. But, as our verse from yesterday morning reminded me, "tomorrow will worry about itself", so I need to calm the hell down today. God agrees, I promise.

So tell me: How do you adjust to change? What helps you get settled?

I'm Afraid.

Next Thursday, one week from now, my husband and I will load up all of our belongings, which I think we still see as "mine" and "his" since we have received or purchased very few things together in the last six months, and will move to our new home in Washington. We will be living in a very nice apartment... built over his parent's garage. Yes, I'm moving in with my in-laws. We love both our families so much, but have also loved our freedom and independence in our current apartment.

That is all about to change.

We are leaving our first home together. This was my first home away from my parent's! This loss has been a long time coming, but it is so different in reality than the anticipation.

God has blessed us richly with a place to live that will allow us to get our feet under us financially as we start this life together. That is worth all the hardships and obstacles. I am willing to be inconvenienced to take full of advantage of God's gifts.

That said, I am a whiner baby sometimes. Kevin is really the only one who gets to see that. And, really, I think that's best. Poor guy. :)

But I'll be honest with you: I like to be in full control. I like to control my surroundings. My unhealthy relationship with food was and is about control. It is a coping mechanism that I formed due to my lack of control of situations around me when I was younger. I allowed food to fill voids in my life. Textbook stuff, but harmful nonetheless.

With all of these changes happening, I find the desire to control something. I am part of a unit with my husband, so sometimes, food is the only thing I have FULL control of as an individual. I control what goes in my mouth and what doesn't. That is power. Unfortunately, that food also has power over me. And it is exerting its power at every turn as I attempt to let go of control and trust God with my life, which is yoked to my husband's.

Food is how I cope. Food is something I can depend on. I can count on food making me feel better, even if only for a moment.

And I am feeling that urge to give in to the Power of Food with all of this change happening in my life. I don't want to deal with my food addiction every day. I want to pretend that I "got over" that. It's not something I will get over; it will, it is, something I have to deal with every single day. If I don't control my relationship with food, it will control me. But it is not within me to do this alone. I have to give up some control to get help at times.

Let's be totally honest, I am still learning to give up control to my husband! And he to me! That is really hard! We no longer make our own schedules independent of anyone else. Everything we do, every word we say, every action we take affects the other - that is a lot of responsibility - and sometimes it can feel like a burden!

It reminds me so much of my relationship with food and weight. Letting go of control, admitting I need help and can't battle food on my own, was one of the hardest things I've ever done. It felt like a burden. But I knew, I know, that if I let God do His work that it would be a worthwhile burden leading to health and freedom. When I let my husband help me, it is freeing and empowering.

That is what marriage is to me. And change, too. Together Kevin and I are making choices to better our lives and put God and our marriage above all else. It feels like a burden when all we want to do is have fun and not do the hard work that has to be done. I just want to skip all the icky hard parts and go straight to the fun stuff. That's when I turn to food. That's when I want to cope in unhealthy ways.

Another unhealthy way that I cope is through codependency. You have no idea. Or maybe you do. But when Kevin and I make decisions together, I so badly want to check with all "my people" to make sure it's a good decision. I completely trust God and my husband! And we talk about EVERYTHING!!! We are so honest with each other. And we put each other first.

And yet.

I have been a people pleaser my whole life. So whenever I would do ANYTHING, I would make sure all the people in my life said it was "okay". I would basically ask permission from them before I did anything. If they didn't approve, I felt horrible. I would change my life to make sure all those people were happy. Friends, family, teachers, bosses... And then I would become so angry and resentful at them for trying to control me - but I was teaching them to do it! I was letting them have power over me! I'm not saying that there aren't times when people do try to control me, that does happen and it isn't right, but I am the one who allows them that control.

Even now, as a grown, married woman - my first instinct is to get those same people's approval and acceptance. If they didn't like what I was doing, if I would MAKE ANYBODY MAD AT ME, then my behavior would have to change. Right? Well, not really. Not so right. These are long-standing habits that need to be broken.

[Now, I'm not going to go into all the history of how I started as a child with all of this - codependency and food addiction, all the causes and whatnot, this just isn't the place for that. But I can tell you that there are reasons. And I do deal with them. I verbalize them and I deal with them.]

Do you know what? It is hurtful to my husband when I bring other people into our decisions. He doesn't say it that way, but I know it's true. Even if I only bring them in emotionally and mentally, I am still allowing other people to affect what he and I do. I get mad at those people for "doing" that, but really, it is me allowing it to affect me. Even if someone did get upset about our decisions, that's okay for them to feel that way, but I'm the one who decides whether or not their emotions and feelings will affect me. The way they express their emotions and feelings may not be appropriate, but how it affects me is still under my control. My actions may not even change, but sometimes the effect is that I fall apart emotionally. That is hard for me and my husband.

For far too long I have lived in a prison of fear. Fear that I will make someone mad. Fear that I will not be accepted. Fear that I will not gain others' approval.

I'm even afraid of getting to my goal weight.

I think that's the first time I've written that out.


I'm afraid that the people who knew me as fat won't accept me as thin.

I'm afraid that I don't deserve to be thin and healthy if other people aren't.

I'm afraid that the people who knew me as single won't accept me as married.

I'm afraid that the people who knew me as a people pleaser won't accept me for a strong woman who puts her husband before all others - including them.

I'm afraid that I won't get the support, love, and encouragement I need.

I'm afraid people will look down on me.

I'm afraid that others won't approve of our decisions.

I'm afraid that people won't support my desire to be the kind of wife I want to be.

I'm afraid that I will never be able to control food.

I'm afraid that I will surpass my highest weight.

I'm afraid.

So I try not to make people mad. And when they do, I allow that to really, really affect me. I fall apart. And then I resent them.

I get mad at people who have no idea I'm mad. This has happened so many times in my life. When I am honest, when I talk to them about it, it has nearly always gotten resolved. In fact, it usually leads to a much healthier relationship on both ends. When I create and keep healthy boundaries in my relationships, I am so much happier and feel so much better. I know that this is true. But I am still afraid.

This is real, folks. This is real for me today. This is not the freedom that comes from living in God's will through his mercy and grace. This is bondage brought on by fear from believing in Satan's lies. I believe that with my whole heart.

This is not who I want to be or how I want to live my life. The truth is, I get to choose who is in my life. And I have the right to be picky. I don't have to allow people to hurt me.

I have to believe that I am worth protecting, that I am worth more than that, that I don't deserve poor treatment. And that can be the hardest part. I still have mental blocks built up in my head that tell me that I deserve to be hurt, that I'm not worth standing up for or being treated better.

And that is just plain not true.

I deserve to be picky about which people influence and affect me. I am worth choosing people who uplift and support me. And they deserve for me to be honest about how I feel, about what I need. They are worth me not being affect by things they didn't do in the first place.

You know what else? I a worth doing the hard, hard work needed to be the healthiest me possible. I deserve to reach my goals. When I picture a thin version of Nicole, I don't even believe I can do that- or that I deserve that. How ridiculous is that??? I do deserve to have dreams and passions and go after them. I am worth that. I am!

Now I need to act like I believe all of this is true. Putting words into actions. That's the hardest part.


So tell me: Can you relate? How do you handle issues like this?

Exodus in Genesis

Exodus 5. Read it here.

The point: A couple guys on mission from God ask the head honcho of the Egyptians for a time of rest and seeking God for their people. He says no. And punishes the slaves instead. He makes their labors even more difficult. They have to produce more brick with fewer supplies. Sounds like a nice guy.

The people, unable to keep up with the new conditions, blame the Mission Guys for their troubles. Just days earlier, they had been praising God and ready to follow the Mission Guys to Deliverance. Now, however, their world has become more difficult and they want to point a finger.

One of the Mission Guys, the one with the stick and aptitude for raising walls of water, feels crushed and asks God if He made a mistake by sending him to do this.

Here's what I got from it: The world, this society, makes us believe that their answers, their rewards are the only way to live life; and that their punishments and disciplines will end that life. That the world's values must be our values. That the loudest voices in society must be right, no matter what. Pharaoh made the Israelites believe that only he could grant and take life. That the threat of physical pain was worth avoiding - even if it meant rejecting True Peace and Deliverance.

Lately, Kevin and I have been feeling the need for rest. Time to seek God, if you will. Time to be together. Time to let down, relax. The world tells us that we don't deserve rest, that we don't have enough money to slow down- even for a little bit.

That husband of mine has been going none stop for over three years. For me it has been almost two years. We are tired. We are in need of rest. We try to take time to rest each week, but we need some extended time. Not just a vacation, a time book-ended by stress and work, but a season (short though it may be) to slow down. A time of Jubilee.

Just like the Israelites, that time appears so beautiful when my focus is on what my heart and soul need. Then, when the world tells me that I haven't produced enough brick to slow down, my worries and insecurities flare up with reckless abandon.

My husband and I need time to settle into our new home when we move. He needs time to study for the bar exam. I need time to set up our apartment and get acclimated to living outside of Oregon for the first time. MacDuff needs to pee outside. Always. But that's a different story.

What better time to rest? Slow down? Take it easy?

In fact, I think that is what God is asking of us. [I could write a whole other post (series, even) about seeking God's will and how NEBULOUS that is, but I'll save it for later.]

Last week, I was notified that I would not be interviewing for a job I had applied for in our new city. It would have required a harried and early move and a whirlwind of stress, but it would have offered security. And I was qualified. And who doesn't want to be told that someone else thinks they're awesome enough on paper to talk to in person? Isn't that what the world says we have to have? Isn't that what the world values? Won't the world beat me up if I don't pursue its values?

Well, it didn't happen. And I'm sort of relieved. Weird, right?

God will take care of our finances. I believe that. The truth is, our finances will be fine for several months. But even seeing a possible struggle in the future makes me crave that no-doubt security. Having trust like that is probably the hardest thing I face. I want to control it. I want that security. I want to know Pharaoh's men aren't going to beat me.

Sometimes all I can focus on is fighting off the world's beatings, even at the cost of the rest my soul needs - that my little family needs. Even when all True signs point to the Deliverance of rest, I want the world to tell me that it is okay to slow down. But it never will.

The world will never tell me what I want to hear, not what I truly need to hear.

It tells me to be skinny, but to do it quickly with fad diets. It also tells me to pursue convenience and decadence at the same time.

It tells me to value money and objects over time with loved ones and time of rest.

This time, I'm not going to listen.


So tell me: What does the world tell you that flies in the face of what you truly need?

Bob & Jillian, Please Ruin My Life

I would LOVE to do a workout with Jillian Michaels and Bob Harper.

Seriously. No joke.

It would hurt. A lot. My pain would feel pain. My woefully underdevelped upper body would hate me for years.

BUT IT WOULD BE. SO. GOOD.

Whenever I watch The Biggest Loser, my favorite part is watching them in the gym. My sadistic nature loves watching Bob and Jillian literally sit on people trying to do push-ups and loving every minute of it. My masechistic nature thinks that kind of torture would be kind of awesome.

You see, I'm afraid of the gym. I face that fear every time I walk over to our apartment complex gym and get on the elliptical or treadmill. But just a little. I'm not using weights or machines. I'm not kicking a large body pillow (okay, that's what they look like to me). I'm doing what I feel comfortable with.

A good friend of mine offerred to take me to the gym and do a workout with her. It would hurt, too. In the good way. And I really want to! I'm not putting it off to postpone the pain or bolster my fear - this one is a scheduling issue. But when I do make it happen, you will hear about it.

When Bob and Jillian are raking contestants over the coals, they are bringing them to the brink. They are forcing them to sweat out emotional baggage and deal with it. They are holding their issues in their faces without mercy - and I can totally see the love in it. Tough love. A lot of us need it. People who let themselves get to be hundreds of pounds overweight need it. I need it.

What those people keep saying is, "I can't do it." I understand! I would say it, too! I totally don't believe that my body could do the workouts those contestants do. And yet they all weigh much more than me and are less fit (at least to start with)! Why do I still think I couldn't sweat it out like they do?

Just last week, I did intervals on the elliptical for 45 minutes. I turned on an old episode of The Biggest Loser, thanks to Netflix on my iPhone (I will never belittle technology), and I sweat it out. Those minutes have never gone by faster. Motivation, distraction, and endorphins. I loved that workout.

This doesn't show my intervals. But I did them, I tell you!

And I've been trying to add little bits of toning here and there. Shoulder presses while I do my figure-eights in my classroom. Crunches before bed. Walking just a bit faster. Hopping up to do something for Kevin or MacDuff instead of staying on the couch. Every little bit helps. (I actually wish I had one of those BodyBug monitors like the Biggest Loser contestants do to track just how many calories I burn in a day; that would be so cool.)

I don't think I could ever maintain fitness based on daily sweats at the gym. It isn't practical for my lifestyle. But a few times a week? Yeah, I could do that. Workouts at home? Going for walks? Hikes? Sure, that seems doable.

I mean, when I think about long-term, when I picture being home with babies someday - I need to picture how I can maintain my weight with all of that. I want to have the energy to run around with my kids, play with them, keep up my home. I want vitality.

This is really about a mindset. A willingness. Self-control. Willpower.

It is about belief.

Belief that my body can do things it's never done.

Belief that my hard work will pay off in the end.

Belief that I'm worth it (and high-priced shampoo, apparently).

And humility. To ask for help. From God, my husband, family, friends.

Humility to go into public, no matter my weight or the state of my workout duds, and doing what needs to be done. Setting an example for my nieces and nephews who look up to me and for my future kids.

Humility to lead by example in the face of fear.

Even fear of a rowing machine.


So tell me: What fear are you overcoming? What are you doing to exercise? How do you keep it fun and interesting?