Eat Pray Love Made Me Do It (4 page)

—

Emily Shaules

H
ave you ever picked up a book and felt like it was written just for you? How about one that literally saved your life?

My health problems began during my senior year in college. What started as terrible stomach pain led to surgery to remove my gallbladder. When that didn't alleviate my symptoms, I was sent for test after test. Finally, I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis and irritable bowel disease. I went back for my last semester armed with a bunch of drugs, pleased that I'd lost those last fifteen pounds, thanks to not being able to eat solid foods over the break. Law school flew by, and the meds kept my problems in check. I met a wonderful man and fell in love. We were seemingly perfect together—same upper-middle-class background, same interests, same sense of humor. There was this pesky detail of him wanting to be a father more than anything in the world,
and me really not wanting kids, but I was sure that would work itself out.

A week after graduating from law school, I felt a snap in my neck like whiplash while my boyfriend and I were making love. I was told in the emergency room that I had pulled a muscle and would be better in a few days. Only I wasn't. The pain increased and gradually spread throughout my entire body. Within months, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and told I would be in pain for the rest of my life. I was twenty-five.

I refused to let my illnesses slow me down. I took the bar exam in a neck brace, with a bottle of Vicodin by my side. I passed on my first try, and started practicing. My boyfriend and I got married and adopted the cutest dog alive. We were well on our way to the 2.2-kid, white-picket-fence lifestyle we'd been raised in. But my body just wouldn't keep up. I was fired from my job because I couldn't handle the firm's “reduced” schedule of forty hours a week, let alone the normal eighty-hour one. Then came another job and another termination. These apparent failures were almost too much to bear for a lifelong straight-A student and perfectionist.

When my husband was offered a sixteen-month stint in London, we thought our prayers had been answered. I could rest and heal while he worked. But I felt useless in London. I sat around all day, watching TV and smoking pot to manage the pain, and he worked long days. Soon our relationship started to crack under the strain.

Back home, all our friends were on their first or second child. We no longer had the excuse of living abroad—we had to catch up. I couldn't admit to my husband—or maybe even to myself—
that I was looking for a way out. Briefly I thought I'd found the answer in a chick-lit book titled
Baby Proof
, which told the story of a couple who had decided not to have kids—until the husband changed his mind. But when it ended with the wife discovering that a child was indeed what she wanted, I literally threw the book across the room. Wasn't there anyone out there who was happily child-free?

Enter Liz Gilbert. I bought
Eat Pray Love
in the airport when we were on our way to visit my husband's family and hid it in my suitcase, paranoid that my motives for reading it would be transparent if it were discovered. Within ten pages, I knew this was
my
book. When I read the passage where Liz prays in the bathroom, I felt as if someone had been spying on me.

Reading the book gave me hope that I, too, could create a life I truly wanted to live, instead of settling for the one that had been predetermined for me.

•   •   •

O
n a Monday night, I told my husband that there was no way I could have kids. On Tuesday, he asked for a divorce. It was the scariest thing I'd ever done. Too sick to work more than ten hours a week at a legal aid nonprofit, I knew I wouldn't be able to support myself. But more than that, I was losing my best friend, the man I thought I would grow old with.

One week later, at a routine checkup, I discovered I was pregnant. At first it seemed like a sick joke, but then I suspected it was God's way of seeing if this was really the choice I wanted to make. I had an abortion. Recovering in our bedroom at home, without my soon-to-be-ex-husband knowing, was the lowest point of my life. I moved out and within a few months started a
support group for fibromyalgia sufferers, where I learned about healing with raw foods. Within a week of going raw vegan, I felt better for the first time in years, and within four months I was off all of my meds. I haven't been back on them since. I retired from the practice of law and moved to Asheville, where I became an actor and started my own company, Shift Bars. We sell the world's first zero-glycemic raw organic vegan energy bar made with zero-glycemic sweeteners. I discovered the Law of Attraction and Abraham-Hicks, and learned that I do, indeed, create my own reality. Today, I am surrounded by people who love me for exactly who I am. I'm so grateful for the second chance I created for myself by listening to that small, still voice inside.
Eat Pray Love
gave me the courage to act on what it said.

I look back upon those years spent suffering and realize my body was doing its best to protect me from taking a path that I didn't want to be on. Each milestone in my younger years was accompanied by pain, as if my body were trying to ask me, “Are you sure you want to do this?” but I was always too stubborn to hear. Now, I listen closely. My ex-husband is remarried and has the children he longed for; I remain grateful to him for the part he played in my life. My experience with him allowed me to recognize the power I have within: the power to create the life I want.

Thank you, Liz, for unabashedly sharing your story. It inspired me in ways I will never be able to express with words alone.

—

Eduardo Martinez

I
n September 2000, at the age of twenty-eight, I made what I thought would be the most important commitment of my life. After years of courtship (I needed to be sure it was true love), I decided I was finally ready to take the leap. I was entering Roman Catholic seminary. I was going to be a priest.

I met a man at the start of my second year. He was handsome, and we had many things in common, including love and devotion for our overbearing Hispanic mothers who dreamed of being able to say they had priests for sons. Soon, we discovered something else we shared, and that we were both trying to escape: homosexuality.

Shortly after, I began having doubts about my vocation. A life of chastity and poverty suddenly seemed far less appealing. It didn't help that all the seminarians I lived with first appeared to be saintly men and then quickly morphed into a bunch of normal guys who'd flood the toilet on a regular basis by using
too much toilet paper. I thought these men would mirror those I had read about in
Lives of the Saints
. Instead, it turned out that the image I had created of them—and of myself—was just that, an image.

When the sex-abuse scandal within the Catholic Church became global news, I knew it was finally time for me to leave. Holy Mother Church and I both had issues of our own to sort out. I'd put so much of my identity into the idea of being a priest that I hadn't stopped to think: what does it mean to be in hiding as a gay man? How would I ever feel fulfilled, religiously or personally, if I was unable to be myself?

So I left seminary to pursue my education and live as an out-and-proud gay man. And I did just that, spending the early part of my thirties catching up on lost time by hitting the nightclub scene and dating as many men as possible, all while working on my undergrad degree in literature. By October 2007, I had finished my first teaching credential and started working on a graduate degree in education. I was well on my way to creating an intellectual and stimulating career, but something was missing.

I spent so many years searching for my identity, first at seminary, and then in school and at clubs, but in my thirties I finally realized: it didn't matter how many versions of myself I tried on if I never devoted any time to cultivating who I really was and what I really wanted—not just what I thought I should want. What's more, by the time I felt ready to really love someone—and demonstrate that love in a healthy way—I had no understanding of how to do it. I had hidden it for too long, and now it was raw and unmanageable and manifested itself as obsessive compulsion. It was too much for any romantic prospect to handle.

Come year's end, I was on a career high but my heart was completely shattered. I was such a mess that I soon became a frequent visitor of the self-help section of local bookstores. I read plenty of books in the ensuing months, but it wasn't until I read
Eat Pray Love
that I decided to take action. I needed to make a change, and it needed to be about me, about discovering my true self.

My parents had recently retired to Arizona and were renting out their house in California, the house I was born in. It was between tenants at the moment, which was perfect. I realized I could turn the house into my own private sanctuary and use it as a way to make sense of all the past decisions I had made—good and bad. Instead of Italy, Bali and India, I would visit my past, my heart and God.

There were several rules I had for myself during the year I ended up renting the house: no TV, no bringing work home and no wild parties. Instead, I'd come home, light candles, burn incense, journal and pray. I practiced this ritual for an entire year. In that time, I learned the art of meditation and reestablished my relationship with God based on the experiences I'd had since leaving seminary. In my journal entries, I allowed myself to express my romantic longing and made peace with my homosexuality.

Ever since reading
Eat Pray Love
, I've been on my own spiritual journey, determined to figure out who I really am and what I really want out of life. The one thing I've learned for sure is this: the more I search, the more I evolve. I intend to keep exploring.

—

Shannon Sykes Westgate

I
purchased
Eat Pray Love
in 2007, and for several months it sat patiently by my bedside, waiting to be read. Then, late one Thursday night at the end of October, I received a phone call that my husband had been arrested for driving under the influence. He was pulled over for a headlight issue and found to have been drinking. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, this was not his first offense; he had similar trouble much earlier in his life. I was floored. We had been married for two years. This threw me into a “what have I done” moment.

While my two little boys slept peacefully in their beds across the hall, I sat, tears streaming down my face, feeling more alone than I ever had in my life. Then I reached for
Eat Pray Love
. I stayed up all night reading and finished just before the sun rose. Over the next few days it became clear to me that, like Liz, I had lost myself and needed to refocus on what would bring me back.

The next year was spent dealing with the fallout of my
husband's mistake. He ended up serving time over the summer. He had work release and would come home just after I left for work and return before I could get home. We wrote to each other every day, sharing our thoughts and feelings about what we were experiencing. It ended up being a transformative time in our relationship and helped us to grow stronger. He gave up drinking and hasn't touched a drop in eight years.

In 2009, I decided to commit the entire year to doing things that challenged and scared the hell out of me. I needed to get out of my comfort zone and learn what I was truly capable of.

First, I registered to walk in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day, a sixty-mile walk for breast cancer. I registered solo and trained tirelessly. Completing the walk was a tremendous victory for me as I had fought weight issues for years. The entire event was inspiring, only made more so because I was now in the best shape of my life. For the first time, I felt like a powerful woman surrounded by other powerful women.

Next, I registered to spend a week in meditation practice with Jack Kornfield at the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies in Rhinebeck, New York. As I trained for the walk, I would listen to Jack for hours. His way of explaining the tenets of Buddhism made them feel accessible and easily applicable to my life. I was finally about to meet my guru.

There was a problem, though. As a lifelong introvert and victim of severe self-judgment, preparing for the Omega retreat brought up all sorts of insecurities for me. I didn't know what to pack. I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard. I didn't want people to know I was a fraud. I was certain all the other attendees would be seasoned meditators and, thanks to my non-yogi-like attire, I would immediately be identified as an amateur.

When I arrived, though, I found that most of my anxieties were completely off base. The positive energy immediately put me at ease. The people surrounding me were welcoming, warm and open, not at all the judgmental barbarians my mind had conjured. Upon arrival, I met a fellow retreat goer and found common ground even before the retreat began. I was going to survive this adventure. I settled in to the first guided meditation and was ready see where this could take me. Jack was everything that I had hoped, and I had an opportunity to share with him my gratitude for his teachings.

There
was
one aspect of the retreat that proved to be cause for anxiety—and that I hadn't even known to be anxious about. This is why you always need to read the brochure for these things! The retreat was silent. Somehow, I had completely missed this when registering. By the time I reached the third day, I felt like I was losing my mind. I would go back to my cabin and cry. I wanted to go home, away from the isolation and all the demons it raised for me. It was as if a highlight reel of all the mistakes and misconceptions I had ever made was on constant loop in my mind. But I was stuck on this campus, there was no Internet connectivity or cell phone service to be had and my fears had me cornered. I had no choice but to face them head-on.

My ability to persevere despite these fears became transformative. I remember leaving the retreat feeling gratitude and love for everything and everyone around me, and for the first time I was able to expand that circle to include myself as well.

Eat Pray Love
gave me the courage to embark. Without Liz's account of her own flawed journey, I never would have thought I could attend a meditation retreat, something that seemed reserved for only perfectly enlightened beings, one of which I was
certainly not. From Liz, I learned that it was never too late to start again. I forgave my indiscretions and granted myself the permission to create the life I now understood I deserved. With my newfound clarity, serenity, gratitude and joy, I was able to find my way back to my heart. My relationship with my husband flourished, and I had a terrific appreciation for every moment I spent with my children and family. I felt renewed and ready for big changes.

One day, after coming home from a particularly tumultuous day at work, I knew it was time. I could not wait another moment. I had no idea what it was, but the pull had become too strong to ignore. I began searching the Internet for potential business acquisition opportunities in Michigan. I was looking for a business I could call my own. Almost immediately I saw a family-owned resort in northern Michigan for sale. Now mind you, my profession was in integrative medicine practice management and my education was in interior design. Running a resort was not something I had ever considered, but I knew I had to see the property.

My husband and I arrived in the charming coastal town of Arcadia and met the couple who owned the resort. They were hospitable and very down-to-earth. As I walked the grounds, I felt a peace come over me. I felt as though I was home. Later, when I shared the experience with a friend of mine, she said, “It is as though your soul was already there and your body just had to catch up with it.” The next morning, walking on the beach with my husband, I said, “If this could work, I cannot imagine how I could say no to it.”

Today I turn forty-five. I am sitting at the kitchen table, which is mission control for my beloved resort. My life has
morphed into the life I know I was meant to lead. It is not idyllic, but it is perfectly imperfect every day. I once saw a quote: “Your job is the excuse through which you get to love people.” This completely encapsulates how I feel about what I do. I am thrilled to be able to serve my guests and share my little corner of paradise, all the little things about Arcadia that bring me joy. I live from my heart and have gratitude for all that life brings. To Liz, my guide in creating a life of authenticity, I am forever grateful.