Wait for it...

I recall very distinctly a time in my life (probably the majority of my life) where I always felt like I was holding my breath for things to fall into place.  I was waiting for a functional relationship, and the education/experience/qualifications I'd been pushing for forever so that I could eventually get the job I was passionate about.  I was reserving my appreciation for my body for when I'd finally shed the hundred pounds of hideous fat and revealed my perfect physique beneath.  I had decided that once those things had been accomplished, that I could finally relax, be kind to myself, and feel genuinely happy.

Instead of really pushing for those things with hope in my heart, I saw my relationship going nowhere, my career efforts seemed impossibly uphill, and I was still wrapped in my fat shell.  I felt robbed of youth and beauty and any financial stability after earning my degree.  My boyfriend was actively avoiding me, even though we lived together.  I saw him maybe twice a week.  I worked a stressful job with coworkers all content to save their griping for on the clock, so the environment was thick with negativity.  I volunteered for field assistanceships frequently, but felt like it was blind groping for an opportunity that I wasn't sure I'd recognize.

Waiting.  Waiting for things to change, to get better.  I was miserable.  Nothing was going anywhere.  I found myself laying in bed, praying for death to release me.  I would mentally inventory the embarrassing details my family would learn posthumously, but mostly I didn't care.  I was terribly alone, I hated myself, I hated my relationship, I hated my job, I couldn't see any possible way out.

After a near-death experience (and I'm not exaggerating) with a panic-induced asthma attack, I found myself actually regretting that I hadn't just died.  That I was so close, and to have missed the opportunity.  It was time for therapy.

My job offered an employee assistance program with free therapy sessions, so I got started with Barbara.  She catalyzed major changes in my life.  I took it seriously, and I embraced those changes, even though the process was often slow and painful.  I tried to see the storm for what it was: temporary.

In the months that followed, I started Pilates four hours a week, and lost 15 lbs by the spring.  I broke up with my boyfriend.  I moved out of the apartment we shared.  I started a summer internship hiking all day every day.  I lost 20 more pounds.  I returned to my parents' house, pounded the pavement hard looking for a job, and was suddenly looking at my passport and visa to move to Korea to teach English.

Within a year of starting therapy, I had changed everything.  I got on a plane and moved to the other side of the planet.  I lost more weight.  I started training in tae kwon do.  I made better friends.  I traveled Asia.

I've stopped waiting, as much, and it's so exciting to reflect on what happened after my lowest point in 2007.  But it's 2014.  That tale ended in 2010.  I'm in Arizona, still feeling some urge for a change.  I'm so much happier, at least in longer stretches, and I take charge over the things I want to change.  I'm much more spiritually at peace, and I practice mindfulness more and more.  I have a wonderful social life in Tucson, with friends I love and trust.  I have a job that is so much more positive.  My students are loving and peaceful and I think we're all grateful to be together.  I have a much healthier relationship with my mother.

The financial stability isn't there yet.  The weight is a work in progress.

I'm sure when I reflect on this time in a few years, I will cite how transformative it was, too.  How I was ever-growing and how all the time I was merely on that path to the next thing.  I believe that.