community – MEyeStories

Contemplating — Always searching for the truth

Have you heard Drake’s song “No New Friends…?” The message in this song is; due to Drake’s newfound fame/money flush existence, he’d like to keep newcomers, with unclear intentions out of his inner circle. It seems that he has an existing group of confidants and is not looking to recruit “new friends.” He proclaims, on repeat, that he only stays down with “my day one ni**as.” I contemplate this idea as a 38-year-old mother and not a famous, 30-year-old rapper. It is amazing the parallels I can draw from this notion of “no new friends,” both as the one wanting to be the “new friend,” and the one who feels most comfortable with my “day one”’s.

The difference between Drake and I, and clearly there are a few, but for the sake of keeping this succinct, let’s just point out the obvious. I am a non-famous, woman, who can rap, BUT, my daily life requires the more mundane tasks of preschool drop-off and various forms of cleaning. Thus, my social life is likely less volatile and/or desirable. However, making friends as an adult woman/mom has a similar theme to a famous rap crew.

You see, the woman who have been in the same mom-gang since their kids where born, or moved into their current neighborhood at the same time as said child’s birth, have developed a desirable ‘crew-life.’ For these crews, geography, life circumstance and general social classes aligned for them from the get, thus creating a friend-making all-you-can-hang-buffet. And now that crew is established, trying to join can be tricky, if not impossible. Is my “groupie” “rap crew” analogy making any sense?

I find myself on the in and outside of the “no, new friends,” motto. I’m on the outside as I’ve entered a community after its creation, thus making me the “new friend.” However, I have my own close friends; they do not share my neighborhood or life circumstances, but they are my ‘day one’’s. And now I’m finding myself looking for “new friends,” while also proceeding with some pretty serious caution. I’m starting think that exercising such caution has been limiting my experience and leaving me consequently lonely.

It really doesn’t matter what stage of life you’re in, making new friends can be complicated and loaded with fear and land mines. Entering into a new group is really about your ‘box’. No, not your vagina… your packaging, your attributes that make you relatable. Think about your box, what type of packaging are you working with? Does it have a nice cellophane screen so that others can easily know what’s inside? Does your box contain enough room for the contents of your soul?

You see, your box is how others identify you. Your packaging is how others know whether they can or cannot handle you. So, if your box is the same shape as other boxes, you can join that stack!

I don’t have a box. I am box-less; Identity-less really. You may think, EVERYONE has to have an identity, but the truth is, everyone has a persona (likes, dislikes, conditioned preferences). I have never been defined by any one thing; I don’t really know my ethnic background; my social and monetary status is ambiguous and I have no singular talent. My likes and dislikes change all of the time, while containing a few intrinsic truths. But, I’m without a ‘typical’ box. I am unable to be categorized on sight. For me, making friends is a process that must be rooted in love, acceptance and authenticity…not always common when newly sniffing the butts of strangers;-)

The point of sharing this is to shed light on the complications of building true bonds and connections. It’s no one’s fault. Everyone is conditioned to align with those that feel safe, and can be defined or associated with familiarity. It is egoic and human to desire bonds that elevate one’s status and/or feelings of belonging.

I find myself in this new (neighborhood, son’s school) place in the life, where it’s as though I’m a bit late to the ball. I’ve arrived but everyone is already seated at their tables and engaged in a dialogue that began what seems like a lifetime ago. I’m also not exercising much bravery in my situation. I could find an empty chair, bring my truth to the table in order to find a community…but I haven’t. It’s the old “chicken and the egg;” which came first? Does the person hatch new opportunities in order to join a community, or do the opportunities hatch from being a part of the new community?

For now, I’ve assigned myself the task of entering into all social dynamics with an open heart and a conduit of love and peace. Maybe that’s how the community begins, with a core of energy that engages new people and draws them together for a shared experience.

I often think that people associate depression with a general level of sadness or discontent. The truth is, I could have never articulated depression until I experienced it. This visceral feeling of emptiness, hopelessness and complete loss of grip on anything, yet white knuckling EVERYTHING. My experience is with postpartum depression, a condition that can affect a woman post-pregnancy due to severe hormonal and life upheavals.

For me, giving birth and becoming a mother was arduous. Domesticity and motherhood where not childhood dreams of mine. My mother was not your average housewife and most of my friend’s moms weren’t either, I never aspired to that outcome. Yet, there I was, a stay-at-home Mother/housewife; who just happened to be 70lbs overweight and pumping my breasts like an animal. My depression set in immediately, although in hindsight, I used exhaustion as an excuse for my pain.

I ate my placenta, I figured I’d be fine! Until one night, my agony became so intense that I wanted to harm myself. I reasoned that feeling physical pain could distract me from my internal distress. I was alone with my son, my husband was working, so I made an emergency call to my therapist, who vetted me for more serious symptoms. By the end of that week I was on a SSRI and starting a more rigorous routine of self-care.

I was lucky to have given birth without intervention, which simply means, I didn’t take the drugs. I am no hero, I just had a plan and was blessed to be able to fulfill it with a manageable labor and really supportive hospital staff. I mention this not to brag, but as point that when you are able to give birth without severe interventions, you are also able to restart physical activity much sooner. Working out post-delivery becomes available almost immediately. I started taking my son for walks on day 11 and by week four I was sweating it out again.

I found my individual workouts to be lonely. I would listen to music and run the stairs in my apartment building. Other days I would tackle the machines at the gym picturing myself in a bikini. I was sad…This was supposed to be my “me time.” Aren’t those cardio endorphins supposed to send me into a post-coital type of bliss? AND, aren’t I supposed to be losing weight? None of the aforementioned benefits regarding fitness seemed to be working on me…but again, I was still battling new-mama overwhelmed’ness.

I think the best part about becoming a mom is that I’ve finally gotten to know and accept the truest essence of who I am. Part of that came from excavating my motivations regarding fitness. I had to ask myself “what really feels good?” “When am I most at peace?” “Where do I thrive?” The common theme to all of those questions was, “when I am connecting to others.” I am an extrovert. While people can definitely drain my energy, having a meaningful connective interaction gives me so much life. So, I unrolled my yoga mat and went with my friends to my first group fitness class since having a human inside of me. Yoga is not only how I connect to myself but how I began to connect to a community of like-minded woman. I found that by some miracle of the universe, every class I took had a theme relevant to something I was experiencing off my mat. And when I was in downward dog with leaky, boobs falling in my face, I could look over at my friend and have a laugh.

My son was born in the fall and by Spring I was starting to find a shift in a positive direction with my spirit and my relationship to fitness. Before my pregnancy I participated in a lot of boot camp style workouts or any fitness class that worked with my schedule. Group fitness was always my sanctuary, but now, as a mom, these people where like my family. They held me accountable, they asked about my life, gave me encouragement and deeply cared for me when I needed it most.

My yoga practice played a significant role in re-discovering my new body. Yoga required me to breathe into all of my parts, sending them love, even if they hung in a way I wasn’t completely in love with. And when I needed some variety in my workouts, I found that other fitness communities are just as welcoming and filled with love.

Today, I am an avid Lagree Method doer. Here in Denver, we have a group of Lagree Method Studios branded Feierece45. As this workout is so difficult every single time, the community makes being there so fulfilling and motivating. I have become friends with the instructors, studio managers and fellow “Fierce’ers.” And, because the studio is in the middle of our community, we all in it together, as a bunch of like-minded people who just want to practice self-love and do good by our mind, body and souls.

It’s my sincerest belief that my commitment to group fitness helped to lift me out of my post-partum depression. The woman I have met along the way are sewed into the fabric of who I have become as a woman and dare I say it? An athlete.

Through community I have felt and shared the struggles of living in a body that’s constantly being judged by ourselves and others. Together, we ask for support and friendship and as a result build more confidence and love. When we cultivate love in our communities, we are more apt to spread it around wherever we go.