Dana Bogan is a beast. She’s fierce and fast. She’s usually the one leading the “When I say November, you say Project…When I say Rise &, you say Shine…When I say Wake up, you say Show up” chant in the stadium on any given Wednesday. She’s also the one who will silently ninja her way through a workout, a race, or whatever and impress the hell out of everyone with how hard she works, how fast she does it, and how much she seems to care about how YOU did, rather than wanting to point out how she did. She’s qualified for the Boston Marathon but still continues to best her marathon PR (3:07!!) before she runs across the finish line on Boylston St. She’ll race anyone in burpees and she’ll definitely win. AND She’s got a deep heart and a tremendous love for the NP Tribe. She’s got more layers than an onion, and at her core is love, connection, and awesomeness. It’s pretty fucking cool she’s a part of the Boston tribe and you won’t be the same after reading her blog. Dana, we’re glad you’re here.
We have all had a first day of NP, before we drank the Kool Aid, before we had tagged gear on our shirts and underwear, before we inadvertently greeted a business executive with a hug instead of a handshake, where we stood there in absolute shock with a WTF expression on our face. We showed up, and introduced ourselves to strangers, perhaps choosing which parts of ourselves would be safest and most welcomed in this new community. Over time, you may have met new friends, formed bonds, and revealed layers of yourself that you had initially been hesitant to unravel.
My experience at NP is similar to many others in that I showed up quietly observing the bizarre rituals of the group, and gradually began to meet people, exposing more of myself with each interaction. Sometimes I’m so awed by the accomplishments of others that I feel inferior, as though my true colors would be frowned upon if people knew the truth-the truth of my past, of my struggles, of my pains. Brene Brown, a renowned social worker and researcher studying vulnerability, courage, and shame, describes the phenomenon of shame as the fear of disconnection. This pertains to those aspects of ourselves that we fear exposing to the world, unaware of how they might be received. Quite simply for me, it has been easier for people to think of me as “strong, fast, and kind” rather than the internal descriptive characteristics I prescribe to myself, because the sense of shame I felt about my self-worth was intolerable, and I was terrified for people to “find me out”.
I’ve learned, however, that when we show up, smile, say, “I’m good!” and walk away, we carry the burden of pain alone, and nothing is more destructive than hiding who we really are-all the parts. Instead, we must exercise the practice of being vulnerable, with ourselves and with one another. Vulnerability is scary AF; Brown describes vulnerability as, “the core of fear, shame, and our struggle for worthiness but it is also the birthplace of joy, of happiness, of belonging, and of love.” And I’m here to tell you that in my experience, this couldn’t be more true.
One of my favorite childhood stories is “The Velveteen Rabbit,” by Margery Williams. The premise of the story, for those not familiar, centers around a rabbit who vies to be the object of the little boy’s affection in an effort to become “real”. The Rabbit, new to the playroom, asks the other animals, “What is Real?” to which they respond, “Real isn’t how you are made, it’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a real long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
I don’t remember the exact moment, nor can I recall the specific day, but my NP family has enabled me to become Real. I have felt seen. I have been heard. I have been loved. Gradually, I have become a little more comfortable, and in doing so, a little more authentic. I remember thinking to myself, “Yes! This is Real! This is what it feels like.” Or so I thought.
Recently, our own incredible Britto wrote a beautiful blog post about her own experience in fighting cancer as a child, and her transformative journey from protecting that layer from others to being able to be vulnerable in exposing her past and utilizing it as a strength in her present life. In reading her story and the profound responses, it was so evident that people felt even MORE connected, and her own bravery triggered others to reveal more about themselves. Maybe that is how you become Real. Maybe vulnerability relinquishes us from the constraints of shame and we become more authentically connected to others, thereby becoming Real.
Brown says, “we numb vulnerability, but we cannot selectively numb those hard feelings without also numbing the other feelings.” Huh. Well THAT sure as hell resonated with me. In honor of Britto being so vulnerable and taking a leap of faith in sharing her story, I feel compelled to share my own hidden layers, which I have kept concealed for fear of judgement, embarrassment, and shame.
In addition to being the strong beast some may consider me at NP, I am a survivor of abuse, and I struggle with severe depression and anxiety. I have suffered from a life threatening eating disorder for over half my life. I’m writing this from the hospital, where I’ve relented in order to find support to help me be more whole, and more able to feel the love, joy, and community that NP prescribes every day. And I couldn’t be doing any of this without the support of my NP family.
In my quest to “be my best self” at NP, I have been so incredibly cautious in peeling back layers of the “real” me, but it has left me feeling inauthentic around people whom I greatly respect and admire. I can confidently say that my biggest regret is that I didn’t let people in sooner. Since disclosing my own personal struggles to some friends within our tribe, I have heard stories about others who have suffered in silence, afraid to give voice to their own experiences and challenges. I have been blessed with love and support that has greatly supported my healing. I have connected to others in a way that reminds me that I AM WORTHY. There-I said it. I AM WORTHY. And? So are you. Every single one of us is worthy. To quote Brown, “You’re imperfect and you’re wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.”
NP is made up of moments that have the ability to affect us in profound ways and spread tiny ripples of hope amidst dark days. Moments are made of people saying, “You got this,” and cheering you on, even when you want to hide under the covers. Moments occur when someone says, “I’m glad you’re here, which might evoke a feeling so much deeper than “glad you’re here right now.” For me, “glad you’re here” can snap me out of my thoughts of worthlessness and remind me that I have a reason to live, and a reason to fight. These moments create connections, and the deeper the connections, the more we allow ourselves to become Real. So savor every moment. Take the extra effort to get to know the person hauling ass up section 27, and say, “Good job.” Hug tighter, run faster, smile bigger, push harder, laugh louder, be stronger. And when you can’t, lean on the tribe. Be vulnerable. It is okay to share your secrets, your pains, and your scars. Let the tribe carry you. Let them see you. See and be seen. Hear and be heard. Love and be loved. Tell someone, “I’m glad you’re here,” and when you ask them how they’re doing, take the time to listen, because you never know if that might just be the moment that helps them in their journey to becoming Real.
MONDAY ANNOUNCEMENTS:
“Showing Up” screening is on Saturday, Nov 19 at 6:30PM. Detailed blog coming tomorrow about that. Just clear your calendar for Saturday night!
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Dana — thank you. I’ve been typing and retyping a comment in this space for 15 minutes now, when all I really need to say is, “You get me.” I was introduced to Brene Brown’s TedTalk only recently. Then, and now as I read your post, I’m wiping away the tears because, well, you both got me. The nearest NP to me is 45 mins away, but when I had the opportunity to be with you all once last summer in Boston, I knew it was something special. Then again, in San Fran last week — still amazing. That vulnerability, that willingness to open up and show your true colors because you KNOW you are worthy of the love — that’s not always easy. (Or at least it isn’t for me.) So Dana, thanks for showing me that I’m not alone. And NP, thanks for being THE place where vulnerability is a badge of honor. Thanks for the hugs. You deserve one, too.
Wow-thank you so much for your kind words Amanda! I’m so glad that you’ve had the opportunity to experience November Project in its entirety, because aside from the obvious fitness gains, it is so much about showing up, being yourself, and being a part of something amazing. I hope that you can continue to find the strength within yourself, and channel the energy and love from NP whenever you need
Wow!
Thank you for sharing your story.
Getting help from a hospital is the right choice, but I know how scary it is to say, “I need help!” in situations like depression.
I’m always glad your here!
Dana, you are amazing. You reminded me of this quote that I love: “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” Only in this case, you can replace/supplement “courage” with “strength.” You show that physical strength to us everyday at NP and knowing you, I know the monumental amount of emotional strength that it took you just to take the steps you did towards self-care. It’s in you. It will roar again. Soon.
D:
You are not alone. For you bring joy to those with whom you come into contact.
And you (we) are all better because of it.
<3