New Year, New You? The Road to Embracing My Curves

Within the past few months my Twitter usage has increased greatly. But I recently realized I was following way too many Skinny This and Skinny That accounts. It was really starting to bring me down to the point of being miserable with myself again. Thankfully, God has a way of snapping your perspective though. Through a simple comment from my husband, my mind did a 180.

He was holding me one night and whispered in my ear, "You're body is so soft." Instantly, my guard was up, and I was completely offended. I wanted to cry. I felt gross and awful. I could think of no more hideous description than to be "soft." I wanted to say, "You mean huge?"  but something stopped me. Instead I replayed his comment in my mind. It's delicate tone and endearment were laced together to not create an insult, but a compliment.

Soft? A compliment? You mean, you like this body? It struck me so deeply. Typically, the thousands of times my husband compliments me are tossed to the side, only quickly to be replaced with my own opinions of myself.

As many of you know, body image has been a major struggle in my life since junior high. I was relentlessly picked on in middle school and have forever hated every ounce of my body. And not just my weight- I permed my naturally almost straight hair three times, I wore non-persciption color contacts for three years, and I was desperate to be beautiful.

High school hit, and I lost control of everything. At some point during my sophomore year I began experimenting with bulimia. It was short-lived, and I was soon "healed." That lasted about a year, and by the end of my senior year I was consistently purging. However, God is bigger than my control, and I  was able to re-reach that point of healing. But like most people who use/do something to escape I relapsed in college. During my freshman year it was only for a short period of time, but during my sophomore year I lost control entirely. I was frantic over it, so in a desperate attempt to have God bring me through, I believed He could heal me. I started running in the evenings and began being incredibly conscious of my food intake. I strived to eat guilt-free portions and foods, and at the first sign of purging, I went running.

Compared to my high school self, I lost a tremendous amount of weight. I felt incredible. I was by no means small, but I was much, much smaller than I had been. And for the first time, bulimia was not a part of the picture, nor has it been since. Praise Jesus!

But then true love enters your life, and suddenly you are going out to eat, having dessert frequently, and not caring about your weight whatsoever because you have a man who loves, loves, loves your curves.
Now don't get me wrong, that's all fine and dandy until the scale numbers creep up and your jeans don't fit. Then what do you do? I know I need to start working out and eating healthy, but I also know that I have love myself where I am before I make improvements. Reason being, I don't want to hate myself the entire journey to my destination.

It's like going on a road trip from New York to LA. Do you really want to be thinking, "Wow. New York City is terrible. It's ugly and gross and awful. I just want to be in LA." Then as you drive down the coast, through the Smokey Mountains, up to Mt. Rushmore, and across wheat fields, painted deserts, and through the Rockies, do you really want to hate the entire view because it isn't LA? No! That's absurd! You are going to love the trip! Buy souvenirs, celebrate landmarks, take tons of pictures, go nice and slow to enjoy the ride.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is going be my perspective of myself.

I am going to love my now size 16 curves, maybe even be a little sad to leave them. I'll then stop to appreciate them as they narrow to 14, will admire when they measure at a size 12, and be look back with joy of the journey as I reach my destination, which in this case is unkown. The best part? I have a fantastic husband who will love every bit of the trip, even if it means taking a rest in-between or even going back to revisit a stop.

And as for Twitter? I ditched those Skinny gals. I searched me up some Curvy Fashionistas and am following a great blog (found here) on embracing your curves.

So take that body image, your fat butt mindset has just been booted out by my voluptuous positivity.

Bathroom Makeover

After giving up hope of ever having a wedding shower, I decided to just use the few gift cards we did receive to redo our bathroom! The floor of the bathroom is awful. No matter how much you scrub it, the stains on the tile aren't going anywhere. It's tiny, outdated, and needless to say, not my favorite room in the house.  So! Here are our attempts to make it better!

A glimpse of the before.
(Don't mind the toilet paper rolls. They are for a project.)

Another before! 

My awful terrible rugs! They literally just came out of the washer.

Table 

Shower curtain close-up 

What a great husband!!! 

He even tried to hang up the new towel... (Which I love, love, love!) 

Yay for new soap dispenser and toothbrush holder! 

Close up! Love the green glass. 

Minus the crappy metal bar, the bronze shower hooks make me smile! 

Switched the mat color! The towel goes great with my seahorse dish! 

Mega thanks to DJ & Rudy for our shower curtain!  

Eeeeek! LOVE my new rugs! 

Green tumbler 

Painting from Chelsea. And new towels! They are the best! 

After! ...Almost...

Something about these silver knobs... 

A quick coat of paint on the knobs! 

And a few sheets of scrapbook paper to fancy up that white background!  

Voilà! 

Home for the Holidays!

Here is my attempt at making our humble abode into our home for the holidays!

Whole living room from the hallway 

Christmas card and snow globe! 

Branches and bulbs! And another snow globe! 

Birdhouse from our wedding and yes, another snow globe! 

Christmas tree! The skirt is hand-painted by my grandma. 

Attempting to decorate my insanely white walls. 

Another view of the whole room. 

I've added a lot more cards in the dining room. I am attempting to shape them like a tree. 

Tree on the dining room table! 

Saluki tree in our room!  

It's the little things that make it home! :) 

Snow globes <3 

Negativity Fast-Gratitude Feast: From Negative Nancy to Positive Patty

I have been struggling so incredibly much. And sadly my husband, mom, and a few of my closest friends have been having to deal with the brunt of that. I saw a post earlier on twitter about a 30 day Negativity Fast-Gratitude Feast. The details can be found here. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was something God is calling me to do... I have been watching myself slip away, but it wasn't until I suddenly became a sobbing mess on the phone with my husband tonight that it finally all hit me.

I am so broken.

I look back at the person I used to be and I realized how I am nothing like that anymore. I think about the days I was filled with love and with joy last year and realize how callused my heart is, and how truly awful I am becoming... I don't even recognize myself anymore.

Praise God for a truly patient and loving husband who is understanding to the n-th degree. He is so incredibly encouraging even in my moments of utter despair. He told me tonight that it's no wonder I am how I am today. Look at what I've been through the past year.

(Just stick with me. I promise it will get better!)

A church that I had been faithfully attending for over 3 1/2 years all but shoved me out the door. Friendships that I had invested my heart and soul in fiercely ended, and I was left in a whirlwind trying to figure out what the heck happened. I lost people that I had considered my truest friends, one in particular that I would have considered as close to me as a brother. Boom. In an instant, it was gone. I was left immensely bitter, unforgiving, and angry at the church. It was a hurt I had experienced before by a church in high school, only this time it truly shook my entire core. Regardless of how much I have tried to move on and put the past in the past and forgive, it just doesn't happen. I watched my Christian brothers and sisters behave in ways that are completely un-Christ like and be praised for it. It utterly disgusts me and fills me with hate towards them and towards their church. It is a wound that hasn't even started healing mainly because it keeps being ripped open. Through Facebook, posters at SIU, running into people at Walmart, living a few blocks down the road, and having a husband who was invested in that church until we were getting ready to be married it has been a billboard, constantly slamming the door in my face reminding me of how unwelcome I was.

From there, I was abandoned by my family. Not all of them, but a pretty vast chunk. I was told that my grandparents would disown me if they were alive, that I was warned not to marry a coon, and that I was no longer welcome at family functions. If you had asked me a year and a half ago of my perspective on family, it would have been this: Regardless of where you go or what you do, you never walk out on family. At the end of the day, they are all you have. I lived by my grandma's dying wish of keeping our family together. At all costs, family sticks together. ...Until you marry a black man. Then shit hits the fan. Past transgressions from years ago are strung out for everyone like a hamper full of dirty laundry. It becomes all out World War 3 of who can ruin whom the fastest. Phone calls, emails, home visits, it is every man for himself. I am constantly waiting for the dust between battles to settle to see who I can still count on.
I was at work on Black Friday when I received a text message from one of my cousins. He said, "It really sucks that you an't spend time with your family because of how bigoted some people can be." I literally sat at my desk crying, longing to just be a part of my family, to be surrounded by the love of the people who I thought were supposed to be there through everything. Mourning over days I have lost with my loved ones and wondering if it ever would be any better.

I then moved on to being forced out of my home by one of my closest college friends and, at the time, roommates. I then lost my new roommate over a ridiculous situation, and lived with a random girl I barely knew just to pay my rent. I was paying two rents at a time out of my savings.

I got married. And still struggle over the parts of the day that I missed out on. Like being at my reception, meeting my husband's family, sharing our first meal together, hearing all of the toasts to us (because I was getting our champagne and glasses), and more. My heart hurts for what I missed on what was the biggest day of my life, the day I made a commitment to the man of my absolute dreams and the love of my life. I still can't look at all of my wedding pictures without crying.

I lost two of my best friends from high school, assuming because I was such a Bridezilla over just wanting to have a wedding shower. When the truth was that my husband got incredibly sick a month after we had been married, I felt like my life was falling apart from the stress of that and school, and all I really wanted was a day that I could treasure. Our wedding day was so frazzled that I wanted just one chance to savor time with my loved ones who were celebrating that Ray and I were married instead of cursing me for it. Which is why I am stricken with a deep jealousy of my friends who have recently got married and have posted pictures and memories about their showers.

School has been a whirlwind. Two of the top people in my college have lost their positions and the teacher that I was assigned to for internship decided to move, meaning my entire placement has been tossed here, there, and yonder. I have missed an incredible amount of class due to Ray's doctor appointments, follow-up visits, and surgeries. And by helping a classmate with an example of how to do a lab, I was taken advantage of, copied off of, and charged with plagiarism, earning me a zero on an assignment that could cost my A in the course and drop me from Summa Cum Laude to Magna Cum Laude, a goal for which I have worked four and a half year thus far.

I gained a mom, dad, four brothers, a sister, and a huge extended family on my husband's side. And, a step-brother, soon-to-be sister-in-law, step-sister, brother-in-law, brother, stepmom, and dad on my side. I am incredibly blessed but am living in constant fear that I will make some mistake that will cause me to lose them like I did my own family.

And I am just exhausted. School. Work. My internship. Being married. Raising Lelan (my husband's brother). Trying to adjust to our new church in West Frankfort while treasuring relationships with those at my church in Murphysboro, a place that I so deeply love. Trying to make ends meet as we pay bills. Fighting insurance companies and accepting our losses. Trying to be a housewife. And maintain relationships with friends.

It's. Just. Too. Much.

Which is why when I saw the negativity fast I knew this was God saying to me, "Please Stephanie. Just     stop. Let me heal you."

So on my first step to healing, I am writing this blog post. Amidst an incredible amount of tears, I am laying everything out there, and leaving it there. In cyberspace or wherever. I am laying it down, all of it down, and moving on. In a desperate attempt to let God heal me, take me down a path of restoration, I am striving to purge myself of negativity and feast on the gratitude of being so tremendously blessed by Him.

I want to thank you all so much who have loved in me, believed in me, encouraged me, and have stood by me during my worst-of-the-worst year. You honestly have no idea how incredibly much it means to me, and I am forever indebted to you. I love you all so much, and I pray that God will give me the opportunity to bless you in the ways you have blessed me. So from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

My Nigga'

Something that happened in class yesterday is still racking my brain this morning, so I thought that I would write about it.

For those of you who don't know, I am working on a certificate to teach English as a Second Language. Although my goal is to teach international children, I have several non-native speakers of English in my classes at SIU. Working on my certificate has honestly been one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I have loved having the opportunity to learn about cultures from across the world and being able to provide a perspective of what it is like living in a small town in southern Illinois.

Thus, it is this give and take of information that struck me yesterday. We were discussing about teaching not only Standard English but spoken/slang English as well and how that best benefits the learner.

Slang. No problem.
Yo- a way to say hello.
Sup?- What is new in your life?

You get the jist.

But then the conversation took a turn into what can easily be considered as a "Hot Topic." The use of the "N" word. (Disclaimer: If you are easily offended by just reading this word, then do not continue.)

It was brought up by the professor when she described one of her previous student's mistakes. The girl read classic American literature often, and when the black UPS man arrived at her house, she yelled to her roommate, "Hey! There is a nigger UPS driver here." The girl had only been in the US a few days and had no idea of the severity of her statement.

This was followed by one of the students from Saudi Arabia. He was describing how he took it as an honor to be called that. He said he felt that he finally belonged to the group when they referred to him as their "nigga."

Instantly, I was reminded of part of the Tunnel of Oppression that was at Grinnell Hall last year. In it, two black men performed a spoken-word poem angry over the use of the word nigger/nigga that has plagued our society. They described the origin of the word's use, the hate that is attached to it,  and the men who had to suffer through that word until it was no longer considered acceptable to say. They then continued in their outrage at the way it is used in music, movies, the internet, and in casual conversation. It was an overall look at how with the use of this word we have regressed.

What struck me in class though was not only how the culture in today's society has embraced the use of the word, but also how the word was never once said in class. Neither the professor nor the students ever let the world actually cross their lips. It was either referred to as "the word," "the N word," or there was a designated pause used in their point. It was considered to be so offensive overall that it is entirely unacceptable to even use the word in an educational context.

And that is why I am still mulling it all over this morning.

Do I suggest using the term "nigger" in a room of 5th and 6th graders? No.

But what about in a room full of adults when you are discussing the word's history and its use today? Is it still then considered to be so far beyond acceptance that you can't even say the word?

It was this question that I was confronted with yesterday after class. The student from Saudi Arabia wanted to know why some people avoid the word like the plague, some state it as though it is a word just like any other, and while others embrace the word as a term of endearment.

How do you answer that?

How do I say that when I hear the word being used as a term of brotherhood it hurts my heart because I know that when others say it, it is being used as a term of utter disgust. And how do I say that I use the word "nigger" in our discussion because I believe that when we avoid the word entirely that we are ignoring the history that comes with it, and we are further allowing it to become socially acceptable. (So long as it is said as "nigga" instead of "nigger.")

Furthermore, how do I describe this to my children someday?

How do I say, "When we are at your dad's family reunions and your cousins embrace you with a hug while excitedly exclaiming, 'MY NIGGA!' it is ok. But when we are in Enfield and you are walking to the park and someone sees you and says, "We told Stephanie to keep her little niggers in Carbondale." it isn't ok, and you should be upset."

The answer to myself is that I won't say that and that I don't embrace the word in any fashion, nor do I intend to allow my future children to view the word as a "good" thing in any way.

It was a was a wake-up call to say the least. I knew that manner in which I was going to have to approach the word in the future; however, now I am left with knowing that I am not only facing a society in the United Sates that embraces the word's use, but that I am also going against a growing trend worldwide.

Thankful.

Everyone always says they married their best friend. But for a girl who is pretty attached to her female best friends, that has been a concept that I wasn't able to truly wrap my mind around.

Until recently.

Ray is working 7-6 at Enterprise and then coaches for Morthland every evening. That usually places him home about 9:30-10:00 every night.

At first I had expected it to be like our life last year. He was gone a lot for basketball, and with our work, school, and extracurricular schedules, we learned to relish in the few moments we did have together intermittently throughout the week. However since we've gotten married, I feel that each passing week causes me to miss him more.

We celebrated our one year anniversary of being together this past Monday, but like usual, we weren't able to spend anytime together. I was already asleep when he got in from work.

Trying to not be sulky about it, I started thinking over the past few weeks. Ray has has an unusual amount of days off because of his doctor appointments and surgery. Every day he had off meant we got to spend the day together at the doctor's office. Would I have rather simply spent the day with him out and about or even at home together? ...Yes. But it didn't matter. I was with him.

This past Sunday was a defining moment for the concept of marrying your best friend. We were coming home from my mom's house, and I started to open up to him about the way I have been feeling about our life, schedules, and the trials we have faced over the past year. The conversation covered a wide range of topics, but at one point I was a blubbering girl of emotion. He simply reached his hand over and rubbed my neck.

It was a gesture that literally swept me. He didn't have to say anything. He didn't have to do anything. He just let me know that he was there.

The love of my life

It is that feeling that made it click for me that he really has become my best friend. After all, simply being there is what made my best friends, my best friends. This is not to discredit their countless hours of advice, encouragement, love, support, generosity, and laughs over the course of our friendship, but it's those moments of them just being there that have truly meant the world.

And for that I am so thankful.

Locker neighbor to FINALLY my bestie beyond distance, Keri 

My best friend since birth, my sister Sarah.

Who knew a conversation about cool whip
would lead me to this girl?  

StuCo truly changed my life by blessing me with this girl.

High school. SIU. She's been there for it all.

Update from the Lewis Family!

The past few months have been absolutely crazy. 

There have been several times that I wanted to post something but never had the time. Details about our wedding. Life as newlyweds. Transforming our apartment little by little into our "home" instead of a place we stay. And other random events. But life has just been too much.

In the past two months:
We got married. 
I started back to school along with working about three days a week and teaching two days a week. 
I met my step-brother and step-sister for the first time and, in turn, have gained an entirely new family.
Ray and I have been adjusting to raising a teenage boy. (Which could be a million blog posts on its own.)
Our car died.
We purchased a new car.
Ray started coaching women's basketball at a college. 
We have been trying to settle into a church. 
I found out my cat has to be put down soon.
Ray has had crazy medical stuff going on with his kidneys, including two minor surgeries.
I've lost touch with close friends and am not sure where to begin to repair those relationships.
We have been traveling almost every weekend for the past month to various family functions.
And, in the daily chaos of trying to work, go to school, teach, help Lelan adjust to living with us, taking care of a husband, paying bills, I am trying to keep our home running smoothly.

It has been so crazy that my professor actually told me I had too much "life" happening.
I couldn't agree more...


I originally typed the rest of this blog yesterday and talked about how envious I was of the people who have a moment to enjoy life. And how I wished I could just spend time being instead of running like a crazy person. But then last night happened...

I got off work. Ran home to check the italian beef I made for Lelan and Ray, grabbed a sandwich, and took off to go chaperone the fall dance at the school where I am observing. I had no idea what to expect, but I was excited to see my kids outside of the classroom.

Little did I know just how great the experience was going to be.

At one point they did a dance where all of the girls threw one shoe to the center of the floor. In order to find a partner for the slow dance, the boys had to pick up a shoe and find the girl to whom it belonged. Some of the boys grabbed the closest shoe, while other boys grabbed their "girlfriend's" shoe. But my heart absolutely melted at one of the students we have with special needs. He ran to the floor, grabbed a shoe, and took it to one of the girls in his class. When she said no, he threw the shoe, ran back and grabbed another one, again, taking it to the same girl. He repeated the process multiple times until she went and pointed out her shoe for him.

If you ever wonder if there is good in the world, I believe that moment exemplified it. The excitement that was on his face, the smiles from the students around them, and the tears in his mother's eyes as she watched from the group of chaperones... It was priceless.

And, it made the rest of the evening completely worth the time out of my day. To see the giddiness of the girls and to watch the boys try to be cool reminded my why I am living through this crazy time. It was a moment that made all of the headaches and frustrations with school and the tiredness from having to work to pay for school seem insignificant compared to the end goal.

But most importantly, it was a moment when my to-do list took a break, and I got to actually enjoy life instead of watching it pass by through the lens of my overbooked planner.