February 2012 – Betsy Schow

Eager Beaver Complex

I will be the first one to stand up and tell you that my personality has some flaws. A glaring one in particular is what I call “The Eager Beaver Complex”. My husband thinks that may be putting it a little too nicely.

An Eager Beaver is a go getter, a man or woman of action. This can be a good thing. It means you take initiative, get things accomplished. It can also be a bad thing when done to the extreme. Like when it’s 2:00 am and I am in bed wondering where I left my phone. Most of the time I am physically unable to sleep unless I find it right then. I can not wait until morning.

In the same vein, when I start something, I go full throttle. When I am given a task, I want to give everything I have right then and there. What usually happens is I run out of gas within the week. Before my transformation this meant I would give up in frustration and move the project into my unfinished business of failures box.

A good example of this would be my running. When I started last year, I would almost sprint full speed for the first lap around the park. If I even made it to the end of my run, I was slogging around the final turn. I was o excited to go and get something accomplished that I put all my effort and energy into the start. As was evidenced in my, that kind of behavior is unsustainable. In my running I had to learn to pace myself.

In my eating I had to do the same thing. If I was losing weight on 1500 calories a day, then 1000 calories a day would make me lose even more! That worked really well until I had no energy to hit the gym and kept pulling muscles because my body didn’t have enough fuel to operate. So I had to find a balance.

Still working on that in my regular day to day life. Finding a moderation. I want to finish the task I’m given and do the best I can. However, I have to pace myself or I will burn out before I have the chance to succeed. Part of the Eager Beaverness is an associated tunnel vision and obsession. Nothing in my life matters except this one thing. My family calls it an obssesive trait. I call it focus. Tomato/ tomahto. But they’re right that when you have tunnel vision, you can’t see the truck about to side swipe ya.

There are times to run and times to walk. Sometimes it’s a steady jog. The wisdom is listening to you body and your spirit and finding your inner balance. It won’t do me any good to run the fastest five miles of my life if I peter out before I hit the finish line. Or worse, I’m looking at my feet so I miss a turn and run off course.

Pricklepants

What’s a Pricklepants?

This is. Or more accurately This is our new pet Princess Caleb Pricklepants. (Long story short. Since I am not having any more kids, I promised Caleb Warnock I would name my next pet after him in undying gratitude for his mentorship)

This is also a Pricklepants. Namely me.

This week I have been overwhelmed with all the new changes in life both good and bad. Husband losing job… bad. Getting contract signed…good. Being denied health care…bad. List goes on.

Needless to say my emotions were worse the California Screamin’ at Disneyland. Up, down and sideways. Every time somebody said anything to me the least bit negative, my quills went up. I went in to full defensive pricklepants mode. I was finding offense in the dumbest things. So and so didn’t like or comment on my facebook post. This person didn’t want to sit with me.

The more things added up the more my emotions got out of control. I tried to bottle them in, but there is a reason that teakettles have release valves. Last night my teapot boileth over. I was in the writing critique group and it wasn’t going well. My grammar sucked, my dialogue tags sucked. My scene had no point. It was too much and I lost it.

Had I been smart, I would have released the steam earlier… in private. But as usual I was being stubborn “Big girls don’t cry” and all that. So instead of releasing steam, I dumped out the whole scalding pot. Afterwards I found myself empty and vulnerable- all my quill defense removed. Would anyone still like me? Would they think I was a crybaby, or a drama queen? Maybe I was that really annoying friend that everyone tolerates.

So I spent last night and today in misery. Until I picked up my new friend Princess Pricklepants. He (yes he’s a boy, but my daughter insists he’s still a princess) is prickly, yes, but he is also snuggly and just cute. I think he is well on his way to becoming a treasured and much loved member of the family. Despite all his pokeys.

It made me think and hope. Maybe my friends and family find ways to love me and find me a valued member of their lives, despite my prickliness.

Finish! It’ll change your life

Welcome to the official website of Betsy Schow, author of Finished being Fat: An accidental adventure in losing weight and learning to finish.

After many years of being fat and miserable, with a few years of being average and less miserable mixed in, I finally had a lightbulb moment. The reason I was unhappy was not just the extra 75 pounds around my middle. It was the weight of all the things unfinished that hung around my neck.

I was always having grand ideas. I’d get excited about this diet, or that workout routine. Or starting a new hobby or project. Even trying to write a book. Problem was, within a few weeks the excitement would fade and that little voice would kick in. You know the one I’m talking about. “You’re no good at this. You’ll never keep the weight off. Why are you even bothering.” That little voice had kept me from finishing… anything. And every time I quit, my wall of failures would get a little higher — making success that much harder to see.

My adventure started when I decided I was finished being fat, but it snowballed into year of changing my life and accomplishing seemingly impossible dreams. Join me while I discover that “Not everyone can win the race, but everyone can finish.”

And everything is worth finishing

before after

Cedar Fort Says YES!! to the Philosophy of Finishing

I have been checking my email every five minutes waiting to hear from an insurance broker to get health insurance now that we are unemployed. I saw an email that I didn’t know. I opened it assuming it was yet another agent rejection. I hadn’t been expecting a letter from the publishers because their sites all state it takes 4 months to hear back.

I opened the email with the care of a bomb squad officer, finger poised on the delete button. The word Congratulations jumped out at me. What the…

Cedar Fort Inc. wants to publish my book. There was only one thing to do at a time like this… cry.

I started crying and held my phone out to my mother in the chair next to me. She let out a whoop of excitement. I was still crying by the time Jarom got there 15 minutes later. His face clearly said “Now what?” After I stammered out that he was married to a soon to be published author, he squeezed my guts tighter than any corset ever could.

Four months ago today, I decided to write a book. It seems like the journey has been a rollercoaster that went on forever, but in reality I think that it’s been really fast. Talking to some new author friends of mine, I understand it can take up to a year or more before your writing sees the light of day.

I am so lucky. I couldn’t have done it without lots and lots of help. My husband is my rock and my earplugs that help me tune out the world. When everyone else was telling me how unlikely it was that I would get published, Jarom stood by me and kept the voices at bay.

I also know that I probably had some divine intervention. Or at the very least a guardian angel sitting on the acquisition editor’s shoulder.

A year and a half ago I was contemplating whether or not someone could die from self loathing. And if so, was that considered suicide? I stopped trying to do anything because in my heart I felt I wasn’t good enough. If I wasn’t as good as so and so, well then I was a failure. Better to just give up.

Today I am going to be a published author. The change didn’t come from losing weight, though it is nice not to be fat anymore. It came from learning the simple truth that I needed to stop quitting on everything in my life…including myself. Becoming a finisher has changed my life or maybe gave me a better one. That’s why I wrote this book. Not because I wanted to be rich and famous. (Because I have no delusions about that, especially after I realized only major authors get advances. The rest of us get royalties, so I would need to sell a bagillion books to make any money)

I really believe in the Koolaid I’m drinking. I want to help others overcome the failures of their past and realize that to be successful, you only have to finish what you start. With each new accomplishment the past starts to fade away and you realize, “Yes I can!” Because you have proof piling up with each new thing you finish that you can show that little negative voice in the back of your head. I don’t have to be the better than everyone else to be successful in life. That’s where the Philosophy of Finishing came from, when I realized that not everyone can win the race, but everyone can finish it.

So long post I know. But I just had to share my “testimony” so to speak. I know there is lots of hard work ahead. I’m supposed to come up with my own marketing plan to sell this book. ugh. Unfamiliar territory again. But with the help of new friends and lots of Google searches, I’ll figure it out. Here’s to the continuing Journey.

Mental Hurdles

I am a runner. However, this does not at all mean that I actually enjoy running. The truth is I dread anything over 3 miles. Considering I am now a marathon runner, and training for the next one, that would mean I don’t look forward to around 75% of my runs.
Most people hate Modays. I love ’em. Sunday and Monday are my days of rest AKA no running. The day that makes me cringe is Saturday — the day of the week I have my long runs. According to the training, every Saturday you have your highest mileage run, and each week it gets progressively longer. Today was 9 miles.
I woke up this morning and immediately felt that trepidation I associate with knowing something is ahead that really sucks. I’ll be honest, I did not want to do it. I did not want to run today because I knew it would be long and I knew I wasn’t going to like it. So I put it off, doing my other chores first.
I swam with the kids. I fixed the pond in the backyard. I hooked up the new entertainment system for my parents. I wrote a new chapter for the Fat Pack Mysteries. But the whole time I was looking at the clock and my sense of dread grew. It was like hearing that Jaws theme music getting closer and closer.
Their was never a doubt in my mind that I was going to in fact run the 9 miles sometime today. The training schedule I made says that I had to, so I would. With all that I had learned over the last year, one of the key things was following through on what I say I’m going to do. Finish what I start, no quitting. No backing out.
So yes, I knew I would finish my run today, but I was being dragged there kicking and screaming. It finally got late enough that I realized if didn’t want to run at night with a headlamp, I had better get my butt in gear. During the run my brain did what it usually does, overthinks things and assigns meaning to what I have been struggling with.
I realized I was a long distance runner, not a hurdle jumper. Yet that was what I was doing to myself. I had been creating an unnecessary hurdle in my path that I needed to get over in order to complete my run. I needed to and would finish those 9 miles today no matter what. So did my complaining and dread make getting that job done any easier? No. It made it that much harder to get my little running tights out the door.
The more I thought about it the more I realized that I made hurdles in alot of aspects of my life. I’m a finisher now, so I never quit. But that doesn’t mean I don’t moan and murmur and begrudge all the effort. Which is stupid and counter productive. If I’m going to do something anyway, wouldn’t you think I would want to make it as easy as possible?
I finished the 9 miles today with relative ease, but it still wasn’t particularly fun. But the feeling I got after my– way too high tech for me –watch beeped, signaling the end of the workout, reminded me why I do it in the first place. To feel that finisher’s high. That sense of accomplishment that I get after doing something hard. That is the sledgehammer that helps me slam through the other hurdles in my life. I can look back on hard things I’ve done and then look forward to obstacles in front of me and say “You’re nothing. See what I did?”
Today helped me see that life, by it’s very nature, puts up way too many hurdles in front of me. I really don’t need to be adding any more of my own. So hopefully next Saturday I will wake up and knock the 10 mile run out of the way. Then I can get to the good part of feeling great afterward.

Rejection sucks

Today has been bar none one of the worst days of my life. Over the last two weeks I have sent out my manuscript and been waiting to hear from the publishing companies. In the meantime the agent rejection letters keep coming 2-3 every few days. Most are form “Dear Author” emails. Some are personalized and say something like this: While your writing is entertaining and nice, I think I would have a hard time selling your book. Basically, while you have some great accomplishments, you’re nobody. Call us when you’re famous.

I got through those thinking number one that they are right. They only make money by selling my book to a big publishing house and I am nobody special. But that’s what is so awesome about my book. I am nobody special. If I can turn from a life of quitting and couch potato-ness to a finishing marathon machine, well anyone can. But still I get their point, but it hurts anyway.
Secondly, I kept the little fire of hope burning that the Liv Blumer agent would get back to me and tell me they loved the first 50 pages and wanted the rest. I did research on the agency and they are one of the good ones. They only take a very ecclectic list of projects. I just needed one yes through the nos right?

Well today I got the Self Addressed Stamped Envelope that I included with the first 50 pages. My heart sank though the concrete to the center of the earth. Inside the envelope was a little notecard saying “Dear Sir or Madame” Really? Not even a personalized no? After I spent $5 to Priority mail those pages. Had they even read them?

I called my husband to get a phone hug.
“I’m super sad, I need some love.”
“Probably not as much as me” he replied.
“What you lose your job or something?” I joked.
“Yep.”

My stomach joined my heart under the concrete.

Part of my book is pushing on when your get that figurative thud of your life hitting bottom. It’s time to test that again it seems. I sure hope the Lord knows what he’s doing. I know he’ll look out for us. We will survive. We will persevere. This could be an opportunity. Maybe he will get a better job. Maybe I will put the book on Kindle myself. Either way I know we’ll make it. Doesn’t mean I can’t take a day to wallow though