Happy Birthday Dad!

Dad & me

Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 76 today if he were alive. He was 33 when I was born, but, sadly, he passed away at age 52, when I was 19 years old. It's hard to believe that he's been gone longer than the number of years that I had him in my life. But what an impact he made!

Dad & Mom, Marine Corps Ball 1975

 My dad was a Marine. He served from 1956 to 1976 when he retired as a Gunnery Sergeant. He completed 3 tours in Vietnam, and, for his bravery and efforts, he received the Bronze Star and 2 Purple Hearts. He taught me to be proud of my country and that serving the public good was noble. Hearing his tales about his travels around the world made me yearn to travel as well. He is one of the biggest reasons that I help the most vulnerable – children – in Africa today.

Dad's college graduation day

 My dad was a scholar. His IQ was that of a genius. He excelled in math and science, teaching physics in the Marine Corps with only a high school degree. Upon his retirement at age 38, he enrolled in college, earning his bachelor's degree, summa cum laude, 4 years later. Seeing him walk across the stage to get his degree made me want to do the same! In high school, I learned geometry, chemistry and physics by studying with my dad each night. He was my own personal tutor.

My dad was a survivor. The year before his retirement, my dad spent the entire year being treated at Bethesda Naval Hospital. He had developed a never before seen kidney disease, possibly due to Agent Orange during his time in Vietnam. He retired with 100 percent disability. When I was 6, I found him in the bathroom vomiting blood and near death. He was given a 5 percent chance to live and spent 2 months in intensive care. He lived another 13 years before succumbing to a heart attack. From him, I learned to never give up! This has come in handy during my own health struggles.

My dad was a loving husband and father. He was loyal to his friends. He loved to laugh. He loved life. But, he wasn't perfect. My parents argued upon occasion. He was forgetful and embarrassing at times to his high school daughter. Yet, every night before bed, he would give me a hug and tell me that he loved me.

To sum my dad up in one word: AWESOME!!!

Body Image

Body image is defined as the feelings a person has about his/her body. I developed a negative body image at an early age, which followed me into adulthood. It started at age 4. I was an early bloomer in having unhealthy thoughts about what others thought of me. I was also a perfectionist.

When I was four years old, my little cousin made her arrival into this world, and I was no longer the baby of the family. I was jealous! One day, she wore only a diaper and a smile that had everyone in my family cooing over her. Desperately seeking to have the attention placed on me again, I decided that I needed to look more like her. So, I took off my shirt. One of my older male cousins spotted me and gave me a severe scolding: “You are a big girl, not a baby! Big girls do not show their titties! Now act your age!” For the first time in my life, I felt ashamed of my body. I had overheard a previous conversation among my cousins about a bad girl who showed boys her tits. So, I internalized that, as only bad girls show their tits, I was a bad girl. I had ruined my perfect good girl status. In that instant, I became self-conscious of my non-existent breasts.

Fast forward to middle school...the ages of 11-13 were difficult. I hit puberty -- my body changed, and my emotions ran rampant! I was one of the first of my friends to wear a bra, and my breasts continued to grow and grow and grow. It was like someone had put Miracle-Gro in my milk! I was a 36C in a 100 pound, 5 feet 5 inch body. And that's when my older female cousins began to tease me, pointing out how big my boobs were in comparison to theirs. Already fragile, I spiraled into shame. I didn't realize that they were envious of me. Instead, I believed my breasts were not normal, gargantuan even! I hated the attention that they brought me and became even more self-conscious. 

If that wasn't enough, in 7th grade, I was diagnosed with scoliosis and had to wear a back brace for three years. I was the freak who had to get permission from the Governor to play middle school basketball because parents, and therefore the School Board, feared that my back brace could hurt their children. Suffice it to say, my negative body image was cemented by age 13.

It wasn't until college that I finally accepted my breasts after realizing that society (um...men) considered them to be the perfect size. Unfortunately, by the time that I came to that conclusion, I had developed another negative self image -- my weight. Yes, I gained the freshmen 15. I felt fat; therefore, in my mind, I was fat.

I let fat define me for most of my adult life. I either dieted or indulged. I mostly indulged as I am a stress eater. I was unhappy with my body. I took another shame spiral when my sister-in-law gave me a weight loss book one Christmas because it confirmed in my mind how others saw me. I hated looking at my body. And, if I didn't love my body, then I was sure that men wouldn't love my body – and therefore me – either. So, why date? For awhile, I didn't.

Being diagnosed with hypothyroidism and then surviving thyroid cancer helped me re-frame my thoughts about my body. As the thyroid regulates your metabolism, hypothyroidism causes your metabolism to slow down, resulting in weight gain. Now having no thyroid, I must rely on the correct dosage of thyroid medication to regulate my metabolism. As I've come to understand the internal workings of my body, I stand amazed! I now eat healthier to give it the proper fuel. I strengthen it through exercise. And while I have challenged myself to lose weight this year, I know that I will never be the image of the lithe supermodel airbrushed in the pages of a magazine. Neither do I compare myself to that unreachable, perfect standard anymore.

Of course, there are days that I backslide – when I look at my bum in the mirror and see cellulite instead of a cute tush. But, in Ben, I have found a supportive partner. He's not afraid to point out when I am backsliding, which helps me re-frame He encourages me to strive to be healthy while not making me feel it's a statement that I am fat. He shows me that I am beautiful when I have difficulty seeing it on my own.

Life Lesson: Only you determine how you picture your body and how you feel about it. If you have a negative body image, seek out support to help you re-frame your thoughts. Learn to appreciate your body for what it accomplishes, not how you perceive it to look.

Life is what you make of it

After reading my first blog post, a friend confessed that she struggles with finding her voice and noted her surprise that I did as well. Her next statement stunned me and had me conducting an introspective analysis all week – “You make life look easy.” I do? Really? How? Since when?  How am I not even aware of that? Why am I not aware of that? And then I realized that our friendship developed after my major life events and that maybe she saw me using the coping tools that I gained from those experiences in stressful situations.  

Life is not easy for anyone, but I have come to realize that my life is what I make of it. No one else is responsible for my thoughts and actions but me. I have to be willing to use my voice. I have to be willing to put in the time and effort to assess how I respond to a situation, find tools that will help me cope, and then actively use those tools. Sitting in the driver's seat while cruising down the road of life, I oftentimes see open road and beautiful scenery. But, when I least expect it, there are signs along the road saying SLOW DOWN or CAUTION or DETOUR AHEAD. After these signs, I usually come across potholes, large and small. If I am paying attention to the signs, I am able to navigate carefully around, but sometimes I swerve recklessly. At other times, signs stating STOP or DANGER seem to pop up quickly because a sinkhole is looming right out of sight. I hit a sinkhole once in my life but averted another. I don't like sinkholes. Once is enough for me.

SINKHOLE: I was striving for excellence in my chosen career. I made a determined effort to climb the ladder of success as fast as I could. I wanted to be the best, and I put in the work needed and reaped the rewards. And then my mother became ill. I became Super Tanya, teleworking full-time so that I could care for her full-time – and during Hurricane Katrina no less. And then my mother died. I was grieving, while at the same time managing her estate, dealing with family and relationship issues, being promoted to management and leading a high profile project. With the pillar of my support network gone, I blindly ran the STOP sign and blew through the DANGER barricade. I found myself freefalling into a sinkhole! Yet, with the help of a therapist and my friends, I found coping tools that I began to use and shored up my support network, allowing me to climb out of the sinkhole with their assistance.

SINKHOLE AVERTED: During my thyroid cancer journey and resulting vocal cord paralysis, I began to skid towards another sinkhole, but I managed to stop in time by using the coping tools I had put in my tool box from my first sinkhole experience and learning new ones. I proactively sought out the therapist and spent quality time with my friends. My favorite memory of this time was when I was in isolation following radioactive iodine therapy, and my best friend called long distance every day to read me Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love. I set up boundaries at work, turning in my blackberry and ending work outside of business hours. I joined a gym to strengthen my body and to help alleviate some of my stress. I learned the importance of my voice and how to use it. In fact, I learned to say NO! I began to laugh more. And most importantly, I began shifting my focus to being positive and living a more wholehearted life.

My life is not easy even if others perceive it to look so. I have to work darn hard at it! I still have a very demanding job and, with it, a lot of stress. Seriously, a lot of stress! Having no thyroid, I deal with medical issues on a daily basis. Of course, there are family and relationship challenges as well. And while I try to eat healthy, there are days that I slide back into stress eating. The difference is that now I am more aware of myself. I listen to my body. I seek out my support network. I laugh every day. If I slip into negativity or stress eating, I focus and do better the next day. And I believe in myself wholeheartedly!

LIFE LESSON: Life is not easy, but your life is what you make of it. Believe in yourself, and don't be ashamed to ask for assistance to avert a sinkhole or to get out of one!

Beauty in Vulnerability

After reading my first blog post, one of my dearest friends commented that its beauty lay in my vulnerability. A simple but powerful statement! Reclaiming Tanya is an outlet where I can express myself and share with you life lessons that I have learned or am still learning -- sometimes over and over again. I want to connect with you and show you that we all struggle and that you are not alone.  For you to trust me, I must open myself up to vulnerability.

Vulnerability is scary! Even as I type, there is a knot of fear in my stomach. What if no one relates to my blog? What if I get a call from my family telling me the gossip about my blog posting? What if people think I'm a freak? What if? What if?  What if?  In the past, the fear of vulnerability stopped me from blogging. I allowed that fear to minimize my voice.

However, vulnerability is also beautiful, like a tulip that blossoms in winter. Experiencing the beauty of vulnerability is amazing! When I embrace vulnerability, my experiences are deeper and richer. I learn more about myself, and I make stronger connections with others and learn from them. Yes, there have been times in my life when I let fear dictate, but I also have moved through the current of fear to experience the beauty on the other side of vulnerability.

For me, vulnerability is, at age 6, finding my father in the bathroom near death but having the courage to get my mother. The beauty in my vulnerability is that my father loved me unconditionally and guided me on my life path into early adulthood. He passed away when I was 19.

Vulnerability is, at age 34, sitting with my mother as the doctor confirms her diagnosis of inoperable lung cancer and goes over her treatment options. The beauty in our vulnerability is that we were able to spend quality time together in her last year that I will always cherish. In her final days, I told her it was okay for her to leave us. She told me that I was meant to live an extraordinary life.

For me, vulnerability is, at age 37, awakening after my thyroidectomy to be told by my surgeon that I have lost my ability to speak. The beauty in my vulnerability is that I learned the true power of positive thinking, and I not only regained my speech but am now reclaiming my voice! I also established deeper, richer connections with my friends who became my champions.

Vulnerabilty is, at age 39, acknowledging the painful end of a long term relationship and then being brave enough to date again. The beauty in my vulnerability is the wonderful life I share now with my lifemate Ben.  He makes me laugh every day and encourages me to pursue my dreams.

If you are interested in learning more about vulnerabilty, I encourage you to watch Brene Brown's 2010 TED talk on the power of vulnerability.

 

LIFE LESSON: Don't let fear stop you! Embrace vulnerability and find the beauty in it!

Reclaiming My Voice

Five years ago, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, and my life changed. At the time of diagnosis, I had a bolt of clarity that I needed to reassess my life, but the change didn't occur immediately or swiftly. For me, it has been a gradual process of learning, changing, and growing. Little did I know the winding path that I would end up taking or the lessons of life that I would learn along the way.

My cancer is “the best cancer to have” as told by many doctors because it has the highest survival rate. I happen to be in the 1 percent where a specific complication arose. The nerve to my vocal cord was severed when the surgeon removed an infected lymph node that had grown around my vocal cord. It left me with vocal cord paralysis on the right side, limited lung capacity, and no voice. This was definitely not the 1 percent of the population that I was striving to be!

For 18 months, I did not have my voice. I could not speak normally. I could not use tone inflection. I could not scream, but I wanted to on many occasions! I could only whisper – a soft whisper at that. I lost my ability to be heard. Even my dog would look at me quizzically when I gave him a command!

At a year, I was told that the reattached nerve wasn't working and that I would never get my voice back. I was devastated! And then I began visualization therapy on my own. I visualized the neurons firing from my brain down to my vocal cord and then making a sharp right turn down the muscles of my throat. Think Space Invaders with a twist. I did this every day for 6 months. 

According to my doctor, it was a one in a million chance, but the muscles surrounding my vocal cord picked up the slack. While my vocal cord is still paralyzed, I can speak normally and use tone inflection. It took another year before I could scream again, but being chased by Chucky in the House of Horrors at Universal Studios solved that problem! 

During my journey, I learned a valuable lesson. I did not know what my voice was worth until I lost it. And then I began to see how precious it was. I realized that I had not used it properly. I had minimized my voice. Before, I did not voice my dreams. Before, I did not speak up when being verbally abused. Before, I thought I could keep from dwelling on problems if I did not vocalize them. Before, I thought that if I didn't say much, people wouldn't realize that I was not perfect. Now, I speak up if I don't agree. Now, I tell someone if they hurt me. Now, I don't hide my imperfections because they are part of me. Now, I speak of my dreams and work to achieve them. Of course, I stumble at times – sometimes more often than not – and dip head first into my old habits. However, as I become aware, I refocus my efforts.

This blog is the next step in reclaiming my voice. I hope that you, the readers, will benefit from the insights that I've gained but also help me puzzle out the pieces of my life where I don't have clarity yet. I invite you to come along on this journey with me and see where we both end up!