Letting go

Not long after my divorce, I met a man who changed me forever.  He helped me feel more comfortable in my skin than I’ve ever felt; he showed me that I didn’t have to be perfect in order to be loved by someone new; and with him, I found a kind of intimacy I had never known.   

Going through a divorce is rough, no matter how you cut it… and for me, it triggered a panic of “I better get in the best shape of my life” (because as women, what are we taught is the most important thing when it comes to being a desirable partner?).

In true Meredith form, I rose to the challenge… and during the summer that followed, in came Steve.  

The first time we met was at his best friend’s lake house – I knew absolutely no one, and had only talked to him on the phone & through text a handful of times.  (My sister was on standby with the address and his phone number, in case I went missing – gotta love modern dating).  

We had a great time, and I’ll never forget the flood of butterflies.  We met for dinner 2 nights later, and after our first “real date,” I was complete toast.  We ended the night like 2 teenagers in the back seat of his Jeep (PG rated, I promise!), the hour and a half distance between our houses working in lieu of self-control.  That was the beginning of us… what would be almost 2 years of laughter, adventure, and a whole lot of love.  

I fell hard for Steve, and it happened fast.  

He is one of the warmest people you will ever meet – kind, genuine, life of the party type.  When I brought him home to Florida about a year later, my family fell in love with him too.  Partly because it’s hard not to love Steve.  But even more, because they could see how good he was for me.  They saw me happy and healthy, for the first time in a long time. 

 In the months leading up to meeting him, I was deep down the rabbit hole of extreme exercise & fasting – using workouts as a way to escape from myself.  I spent pretty much all of my free time training, immersed in rounds of tuck jump burpees, sweating out my anxiety in 2-hour sessions, practically every day.  And I loved it – every single second. 

 I found a freedom unlike any other when I was on the mat, driven by endorphins and adrenaline, feeling truly in my body (not in my brain).  The problem was, I loved it a little too much… pair those work-outs with a pretty extreme fasting regime, and I was the leanest I’d ever been in my life – underweight, with no period to speak of.  But I felt confident in this newly single version of myself. 

 I was proud of this woman who stood before me: fit, and powerful; reminiscent of the person I was in my 20’s, before marriage and the responsibilities of motherhood.  

 I liked her – I liked me – and I was determined to never look back.  This is who I was now, and this was who I wanted to be:  drenched in sweat and devoted to high intensity exercise.  (Also quick to disregard the inconvenient knee pain…)

 I’ll never forget the first weekend Steve came to visit me in Rhode Island, and the moment he held me by the shoulders and looked at me intently with his ocean deep blue eyes.  “You’re really thin, Mer… I worry about you” – we had known each other all of 3 weeks, I hadn’t yet shared any of my backstory, and I could tell his concern was genuine. 

 I was quick to respond, challenging him that he may not like the end result of how my body would look if I were to gain weight.  And he was quick to respond, “that would be just fine – a little more cushion for the pushin” (typical Steve, and 100% genuine).  I hugged him, I thanked him, and it may have been that moment when I fell completely in love.

 In the months that followed, I started to let my guard down, and I did gain back the weight that my body desperately needed.  And despite my own hesitation and resistance, Steve showed me that he meant what he said – he loved me and every inch of me, even with an extra 10 or 15 pounds. 

 While I eased up on my nutrition guidelines and embraced the peanut M&Ms, I wasn’t quite as happy about the changes that were coming on the exercise front.  And that piece really wasn’t about the number on the scale, or the fact that there was no chance in hell I’d be getting my favorite size 24 cutoffs over my butt (rest in peace, tiny shorts!). 

 Intense exercise had become engrained in me.  It was a part of me, and it was a huge piece of how I defined myself.  I was beyond stubborn about this point, and I pushed the limit when I should have been listening to my body. 

 The issues compounded, physical therapy wasn’t helping much, and the verdict became clear:  over-use injuries from too much high impact training.  Where do I go from here?

 In Atomic Habits, James Clear explains that we should actively engage in continuous reflection about our identity, how we define our current selves, and who we envision ourselves to be down the road. 

 He cautions that if we cling too tight to any specific element, we could wind up in crisis if and when we encounter circumstances that dictate an unwelcomed change.  Such was the result of these overuse injuries, stopping me in my tracks: insert identity crisis here. 

 Learning to accept a different, less extreme form of exercise has been a journey, and reimaging who I define myself to be – yet again – has involved many moments of mourning. 

And as you can guess, the shift in exercise meant even more changes in my body. 

 Making peace with the circumstances wasn’t always easy, but being with Steve made it feel easier.  Although he may not know it, he helped me learn one of the most valuable lessons there is to learn:  not only are we allowed to change who we are and what we want for ourselves, there are times in life when we must. 

 My extreme workouts got me through impossibly difficult times, setting my mind free from itself, even if just temporarily.  And although I may have enjoyed the quick glimmer of my 20-something-self resurfacing during life’s most challenging time, I know in my heart she wasn’t meant to stick around… because I have bigger and better things to do with 2 hours a day – and I’d rather embrace that identity, when it comes to becoming the woman I want to be.         

 As for Steve, he is a free bird and will always be… living by his “here today, gone the next” mantra.  And while he’ll forever have an incredibly special place in my heart – I’ll always consider him to be the grand finale fireworks of my 30’s – I knew I had to let him fly.  Just the same as I had to let go of an identity that no longer suited me. 

 I will miss him way more than I’ll miss the teeny tiny bikinis I wore when we were together – but the truth is, neither fit me quite right anymore…  and when we grow beyond certain chapters (or items of clothing), there’s a peace that comes in accepting the beauty of letting go.