Making Space

Making space means a lot of different things to a lot of different aspects of my life, and I want to review a few of them with you as a witness to what is happening in my own growth or maybe life.

Let’s take a moment to reflect on what making space means to us and what our space needs are then as a bonus what do we do in the space that is made for real work to be done.

I am not super forthcoming when it comes to medical issues, which I have been dealing with since November. An old injury finally decided to surface and my feet haven’t been weight-bearing (meaning I couldn’t stand) for months, and this was exacerbated by changing air pressure while on planes. For someone that travels for a living and then stands on stages, walks around ballrooms, and runs through airports, this has been painful in more ways than physical. Faced with my own workaholic addictions, I realized that I needed, and really wanted, to do what I needed to do to get better so I could do what I love.  I made space. I converted speaking contracts to virtual contracts, took a significant pay cut, underwent medical procedures not covered by insurance, and consistently went to physical therapy until progress was beginning to show up. I have since graduated from physical therapy and started going to the gym.

For those of you that know my daddy issues and the impacts of being raised by a powerlifter bodybuilder, I need you to know I am ok, this is a consensual choice on my part. I have not been kidnapped.

Being in a space where I am both so knowledgeable and comfortable and have experienced so much body shame, neglect, isolation, and age-inappropriate situations is a reflection of its own. Being babysat by free-weight-wielding strangers, developing an allergy to chalk, and learning the art of cuss word conjugation and sarcasm, it is no wonder I turned out the way I did. Most would say that it wasn’t a space for a young child and yet I learned a lot, matured maybe too quickly, and even became a certified judge for meets after running score and administrative tasks for years – all before I retired at age 16.

Fast forward 34 years and I find myself confronting gym rats, skinny half-naked women, machine hogs, and locker room dynamics again for what feels like the first time.  Patterns repeat themselves when given space or not.  

When I attended my gym’s orientation (huh, just said MY GYM -  who am I?), I found myself filling in the muscle groups different machines focus on that the young staff member couldn’t remember, correcting their idea of good form, and really listening to their ideas of stretches and strength training that I could do to help with my feet. Both and yet again. When faced with not being able to do my job, I find myself coming face to face with deep and painful truths that I have suppressed when it comes to my father.  Just in time for Father’s Day, I am building strength—both emotionally and physically.  There is space for both.

As I begin to travel again, I get to visit my gym in different states and am reminded of the physical differences of space too.  The gym has a quick circuit room and my home gym’s layout is pictured here.  The semi-circle of machines work out major muscle groups and have maybe 3-4 feet between each machine with a wide open space for stretching in the center

.While in NYC recently, where space is wildly differently understood, the same circuit is in a room maybe 20 feet by 10 feet with inches in between machines.

I tried to take a picture of how small this area was as best as I could – just trust me – one is very big and the other is very small. The space changes, but the circuit itself is the same. At my home gym, folks scroll through Facebook while sitting on the machines just like they did in Manhattan. The footprint is wildly different, but so is the special tolerance. In NYC, folks can bump into one another, and it is excused politely (typically) unless it is your feet. In Texas, if you change lanes too close to another car, you might experience road rage, and there is zero understanding of physically touching one another, even if on accident.  At home, we may give someone sleeping in a doorway some space, not out of fear, but out of consideration to not wake them up.  Space matters; it differs; and it always matters.

The present for these quick workouts is grape-flavored Tootsie Rolls.  I grab three as I walk out the door as my prize.  The gym in NYC didn’t even have candy and looked at me like I was nuts when I asked.  

Upon my return home from my first business (and fun) travel in a long time, I got hit by a head cold – like a Mack truck. I haven’t been to the gym in a week. I am finding myself missing the space. I am noticing I slowly stopped bringing my headphones. I just have space with my breath. I feel my heart rate increase. I savor the grape taste as I drive back to my office or finish errands. I miss that space. This week, I have noticed the missing space and am eager to make space for this space again.

All of this use of space can happen at the same time. I can feel suppressed trauma while being really proud of my progress. I can build a routine that becomes too light because I am building strength even at low weights and low reps. Habits can be formed, covered up, forgotten, longed for, remembered, and put into action again. We just have to make space for unspoken conversations, accommodate changes in spaces, and build up the muscle to hold that space so that we can heal, grow, learn, and get back to work.

Thank you for holding me accountable and being able to use this space to share as much as I challenge myself to notice what or how I am doing month to month.

I wish you all grape Tootsie Rolls, closure, strength, and grace. I will make space for these things for myself too.