True You (16 page)

“‘If I do that,’ I said, ‘I’ll be faking it.’

“‘Faking it is fine,’ he said, ‘because in the course of faking it you will eventually come to a place where you mean it.’

“‘I don’t think so,’ I said.

“‘I do,’ he replied. ‘If stimulated by positive thoughts—especially thoughts that involve the betterment of others—the mind moves on. The mind heals itself. But to do so, the mind needs to move from stale energy to fresh generosity. Generosity of spirit.’

“There was that term again—
generosity of spirit
. It became my mantra. I railed against it. I didn’t want to be generous; I wanted to be vengeful. Revenge felt good. Revenge meant closure—and it also meant victory. If I could hurt her as she hurt me, I’d feel less
hurt. Praying for her felt false. Wishing her harm felt real. And yet I knew that, as the mother of my children, the more comfort she felt in her heart, the more comfort they too would feel. I had to grow beyond my own pain and consider how to avoid inflicting further pain on my kids. I had to move my mind in a positive direction at a time in my life when dark negativity was surrounding me. Move beyond darkness to light. Move beyond pain to healing.

“I heard a man on television talking about wounded hurters and wounded healers. ‘When you get cut,’ he said, ‘you either want to pass on the pain or help people who have suffered themselves. You think that by passing on the pain you lose the pain, but, in truth, that only prolongs the pain. There’s only one way to break the cycle, and that’s to head into healing mode.’

“I believed all this healing business. I was determined to implement it. And live according to the laws of love and forgiveness. But just as I adopted that high-minded attitude, she hired a divorce lawyer, a pit bull disguised as a man. Without going into the gory details, he made demands—in her name—that went beyond the bounds of reason. If I had acquiesced, I’d face financial ruin. So much for the spirit of generosity. I returned to my original state of rancor. If she was getting a pit bull to attack me, I’d hire a Rottweiler. Attack, assault, intimidate, destroy. All-out war. With the kids in the middle.

“My wise friends kept saying, ‘Stop and think. Take a deep breath. Pray for wisdom.’ I took their advice, and rather than hire a Rottweiler, I spent a couple of weeks listening to the music and reading the poetry that helped quiet my mind. When I came out of this period of meditation, I decided to invite my wife to lunch.
She accepted. The day of our get-together, I called the most loving and generous of my friends for words of encouragement. I spent a long time that morning looking at pictures of our daughters. In the car driving to the restaurant, I went over all the things in my life for which I’m grateful—my health, my children, my connection to a spiritual source of strength. When I arrived, she was already there. ‘Gee,’ she said, ‘I’ve never seen you look so relaxed.’ That set the tone. We had a reasonably good discussion and—thank God!—I actually convinced her that my financial ruin was not in the best interest of anyone, especially our children. We agreed that working through overzealous lawyers would do no one any good. I assured her that I would be generous in the settlement. I wanted her to be comfortable and I wanted her to be happy. She was astounded by my attitude. After she had hurt me so deeply, she was convinced that I was going to hurt her. ‘That’s why,’ she said, ‘I hired such an aggressive attorney. I was afraid of what you might do to me financially. I was afraid that you’d want to punish me.’ Her motivation was fear—the one emotion that, unleashed, can destroy anything and anyone.

“In the final analysis, our divorce has been the most difficult chapter in my life. I have to live with the undisputed fact that the woman I love has rejected me for another man. I’m still haunted by thoughts of what I could have done to change things. But ‘could haves’ and ‘should haves’ only perpetuate more misery. And I’m not interested in misery. I’m interested in movement—positive spiritual movement from self-pity to self-assertion. I am who I am. My now ex-wife is who she is. I can’t get her back. I can’t make her love me. All I can do is fill myself with more love—and hope that she
does the same. All I can do is minimize the destructive elements and maximize the creative ones. Out of this emotional debacle, can I be a better and more attentive dad, a more compassionate and understanding human being?”

My friend’s story inspires me. I say that because most of us have lived through the collapse of romances and relationships. I know I have. It’s hard not to dwell on everything that went wrong. I’m one of those people who tend to blame themselves when things don’t work out. I need friends to remind me to keep moving forward. There’s nothing to gain by going over everything that went wrong. That’s stale energy. Fresh energy gets me going; stale energy leaves me stuck.

A beautiful lady—I’ll call her Inez—told me the sad story of how her husband had left her for another woman. When I asked why, Inez said, “I had gained weight. He said that he no longer found me attractive. He said that if I really loved him, I’d lose the weight and make myself sexy for him. He reminded me that when we got married, I had a perfect figure. ‘That’s the figure I fell for,’ he said. ‘I’m not into fat girls.’ ‘I’m not a fat girl,’ I replied. ‘I’m a full-figured woman.’ With that, he laughed in my face and walked out the door. This was a week before my thirty-fourth birthday, which I wound up celebrating alone. In the following weeks, I overate like crazy. I medicated myself on chocolate. When I learned through friends that my husband was with another woman—a
slender
woman—I started eating even more. I piled on the pounds and was on the verge of becoming dangerously obese.

“When he filed for divorce, I broke down. Crying, eating, unable to sleep, I went to see a counselor, a wonderful woman, who told me, ‘You need to get healthy, not for your former husband—but for yourself. Your husband has failed the loyalty test. You’re a big-boned woman and you’re never going to be reed thin. But reed thin is not healthy, and reed thin is not you. Go to a nutritionist and find a healthy program that works for your body and your lifestyle. Get moving.’

“I got moving. I found a nutritionist who had helped other women with my body type. He designed an eating program that was neither instant nor miraculous. It was slow but steady. Over six months, I dropped significant weight. My confidence was back, along with my self-esteem and my figure. By then my ex had broken up with his skinny girlfriend. When I ran into him in the mall, he was amazed at my appearance. He was all over me with compliments and even come-on lines. ‘I know you did it for me,’ he said, ‘and, baby, it’s working me like crazy.’ I just smiled and walked away. When he called that same night, I didn’t even bother to pick up. I had moved on.”

Movement for me also means exercise. I’m like most everyone else when it comes to getting in shape: I don’t want to do it. I need motivation. Sometimes motivation comes in the form of looking in the mirror. Sometimes it comes in the form of a firm commitment to meet my trainer. But even if you like what you see in the mirror or don’t have a trainer, that doesn’t mean movement toward exercise isn’t possible. I’ve been given wonderful advice from wise
professionals; their insights about what it takes to get moving have made a big difference. They have taught me to…

Set reasonable goals. Don’t bite off more than you can chew. A little bit goes a long way. If that means spending only ten or fifteen minutes a day, then spend that time and don’t berate yourself for not spending more. Build up slowly. Ease into a rhythm and let that rhythm carry you.

Be open-minded about the form that suits you best. Don’t do the exercise you feel you
should
do—do the exercise that you actually might enjoy. Some like to run, or walk, or spin, or dance, or stretch, or play soccer or softball or basketball or volleyball at the beach. Doesn’t matter. Movement is movement. Make what moves you—music, competition, solitude—part of your exercise life.

I was taught that consistency is the key. Find what works and keep at it.

Have fun.

My trainer, Tony Martinez, always turns my workouts into games. He’ll put together an obstacle course for me; he’ll get me to throw a basketball back and forth to him, quicker and quicker, until my heartbeat is accelerated. We have timed runs. He gets me laughing like a little kid. He keeps it fun. He’s always encouraging. Tony is a major part of my fitness program and my ability to stay connected with my own true me. He inspires me and everyone I work with, too. He’ll bring fitness equipment to rehearsals so I can keep my stamina up when we’re preparing for a show. He keeps us moving even when it’s as simple as adding a game to our workout sessions. He makes me laugh. I know that not everyone can afford to work with someone of Tony’s great talent. Thus one of my
dreams is that Tony will be able to share his gift with the world in the future. If I didn’t have Tony with me, I don’t know where my body would be right now.

It’s one thing to lose weight with a nutritionist, as I was so fortunate to do with David Allen’s wonderful help; it is yet another entire effort to keep that weight off, to be fit, to stretch, to be strong, to have definition, to keep a strong core, to always stretch. And as you get older, it certainly doesn’t get easier. Tony has given me the tools and support to be healthy and fit.

I get discouraged. I get lazy. I think to myself,
Enough! This exercise routine has gotten old and I’ve gotten bored! I just want to eat what I want to eat and forget about everything else because it tastes so good
. It’s like a drug addict or alcoholic who drinks or uses one time and thinks he or she can handle it. And even with all the support I have, the work continues. I think to myself,
I earned the right to have this reward meal. I wanna eat what I wanna eat.
But the difference is, we all know we have to eat. It’s true that we must eat to live, not live to eat. But we must do it in a healthy way.

Since you’re reading this book, you likely know all about the internal voice that whispers to you, urging you to slip back. That voice is strong and never goes away entirely. I hear it just as I hear the voice that tells me that I’m not the person—the artist or friend or daughter—that I should be. To quiet those voices of negativity, self-doubt, and self-loathing, I must first acknowledge my inability to turn them off completely.

They’ve been there too long and they’re too deep a part of who I am. All I can do is ask them politely to turn down the volume. I can live with those voices if I recognize that there are other
positive voices that tell me that, as a child of God, I’m loved, I’m valued, and I’m capable of achieving balance in my life. I can learn to eat well. I can exercise. I can express gratitude for the simple act of being able to breathe in and breathe out. I can move away from darkness and depression to light and hope. I can be happy with who I am, not what I should be, or what I might have been, or what someone tells me I must be.

I am me, the true me; you are you, the true you—and that’s good. That’s beautiful. That’s enough.

… as a child of God,
I’m loved, I’m valued, and
I’m capable of achieving
balance in my life.