Written by: Becca Vry
Have you ever found yourself in the emotionally difficult position of self-reflection, when you reach down into an honest-seeking depth within yourself, diving into the innermost wells of experience, contemplating where you’ve been and the direction you’re headed?
I’ve been deliberating my own life-lessons since my whirlwind trip to Paris to attend the movie premiere of Freed, the final installment in the Fifty Shades of Grey movie trilogy. It was a dream-like, glorious adventure that, even months later, still does not seem real, but I’ll get to all of that in a few moments.
From the smallest hour of humanity, when we were yet entering the dawn as coalescing civilizations, the imagery of snakes have been immortalized, revered and showcased. Some of the most ancient rock coverings and cave drawings contain snake imagery, an honored mother-earth symbol of rebirth. Virtually every ancient civilization spanning the earth’s vast circumference reverenced myths regarding goddess imagery involving the snake, with ceremonies dedicated to celebrating the sacred rejuvenation and regeneration.
The Maori, Hopi Indians, ancient Sumerians, Egyptians, Greeks, and a plethora of popular and obscure mythologies celebrate the snake in ways that might make modern day Ophidiophobians cringe, and yet the snake and shedding of skin remains one of the most powerfully prevalent symbols in mankind’s history.
On a personal level, the Ouroboros has always fascinated me – an arresting symbol of a snake eating its own tale, forming a perfect circle or often-times the infinite curves of a lemniscate.
Many historians will ascribe different meanings to this image, yet my personal favorite interpretation involves the homage to the concept of infinity and the unlimited capacity to achieve new beginnings through shedding skin – the optimistic and continual rediscovery of self, ad infinitum.
Considering my recent loss of more than 100 pounds, and breaking from the clenching emotional and health issues constricting my happiness and halting forward momentum in my own potential, I can easily rationalize why this imagery resounds so strongly with me…why the Ouroboros has become a cherished representation of my recent life experiences.
I have also come to believe that this same symbol of rejuvenation begs deeper comparison to our other human experiences. Symbolically, there is something incredibly powerful and symbiotic between meaning and intent, remaining constrained and sloughing out of constricting situations or mentalities we may find ourselves facing throughout all areas of our life.
Comparatively, scientists assert that humans completely shed our outer layer of skin about once a month. That literal fact is potent (it’s amazing what our human bodies are capable of!), yet the allegorical implications of that process are quite profound, too.
Since my Trans-Atlantic plane ride home from Paris, I have been contemplating why many of us go years without considering the symbolic and sometimes physical molt we must endure to become a better version of ourselves. I went over a decade forgetting to look at myself or consider my health, my organs, and my joints in a critical way, the abyss of denial widening with each passing year.
Gazing out of my airplane window on my flight home, it was nearly impossible to discern the night sky from the dark-slumbering world below, the horizon an intennible obscurity. While that ambiguity held a daunting fear weighted with bleakness — made even heavier with the length of time until my destination home — it was also a comforting reminder that while I could not yet see my landing place, it was present, albeit far in the distance. It was a powerful literal and metaphor for my journey.
I was also touched by the fact that as I peered into the blackness out of my window, my reflection clearly and unapologetically peered back at me, a reminder that despite my challenges, I was still very much present on this extraordinary journey of my life.
Just as that perception of blurred horizon and sky was made more challenging by my limited view out of a small airplane window, traveling more than five hundred miles an hour away from the dear friends I’d just celebrated with in a dream-like scene and yet had to leave behind in Paris … I began considering the trajectory my life and health have taken over the years, the often indiscernible and perplexing surface of my own reality.
It struck me that no matter the speeds I’ve moved through life, or the highs and lows I’ve traveled or displayed on the scale, forgetting my destination and goals have become commonplace. After speaking with friends about this tendency, I know I’m not alone. That was an inspiring motivation for composing this essay.
Why does it take some of us so long to realize we need to consider the journey we are on, and the layers of our lives needed to be addressed or shed as we outgrow them?
Each of us must, at some point in our lives, face the realization we’ve forgotten to escape what confines us, in order to cultivate our own happiness … to peer at the abyss before us, formed over countless effectations as the surface of our lives shifts, where we begin to view our lives through the lens of self-reflection, and decipher a strategy to traverse our obstacles. This prioritization of self often comes to a head when we are compelled to realize our own stagnation, so that we must grow beyond and free ourselves from the proverbially constraining husk we sometimes find ourselves inhibiting.
Yet this self-identity of discovery often comes at quite a high price.
That Shakespearean pound of flesh … my high price revealed itself recently as I met with orthopedic specialists, where I received some disconcerting news. I’d injured my knee while in Paris, and went to the hospital soon after my return to have a scan done of both legs. That scan revealed a tear in my meniscus, and that my previous morbid obesity had caused a great deal of osteoarthritis damage (and thus pain that continues to challenge my mobility) in my ankles, knees and hip joints. Even after waving goodbye to my top weight of 288 pounds through my reduction in calories and elimination of high-glycemic foods over the course of a year, the recommendation was that I lose 40 additional pounds to help with the stress on those joints.
Unfortunately, the damage done to my joints is irreversible. Wearing my pounds of flesh, my stretched-thin skin, for more than a decade forced my body to adjust by anteriorly rotating on my hips to help distribute the force and bulk of my weight as I walked through life. My hips, knees and ankles bore the burden in a very unnatural way. Learning about this strain and its detrimental, long-lasting effects … It’s a fact I must now live with.
Being morbidly obese for so long also taxed my organs and endocrine system, placing me at risk for early death and lots of suffering in the meantime. Those same taxed organs and joints are still recuperating from the stress I inflicted upon them, but at least my diabetes reversed itself after losing 100 pounds, and I no longer need to take medications for health issues.
Leaving the 200’s on my scale behind while now inhabiting “Onederland,” and receiving the health benefits of a lighter load on my frame and organs, has helped assuage some of the guilt I feel about what I’ve put my body through for so many years. That accomplishment has remained a ray of light to warm me into more positive thinking – especially if I ever find myself being too hard on myself for past mistakes and poor judgements.
I know that I’m only human, and we all make mistakes. I accept that fact, and have promised myself that I will focus on looking towards the future with positivity and health-driven intent – but that personal vow does not preclude true honesty about the skins I’ve worn, nor why I’ve outgrown them. I understand that I must try to understand them if I’m ever going to progress forward.
This essay, in a very real sense, is me doing that out loud. It is just as much for me as I hope it is for others. This shedding of “skin,” my proverbial and literal pounds of flesh, has given me many reasons to reflect on in the last few months, and the most prevalent truth I’m grateful to accept is the gift of true friendships.
Just as the goddesses of myth were called upon in times of reflection by our ancestors, so too have I found myself doing the same – yet my goddesses are not mythological. These are the joyrousers in my life, the treasured friends who have provided the kind of nurturing support and inspiration to push through my own challenges, to achieve the success I have thus far.
In my case, what is even more incredible about many of these inspirational friends is that for many years of my life, I’d never met them “in real life” or hugged them in person. I don’t mean to imply that these virtual friendships are any less important or valid in terms of human connection. The truth is the opposite. It just is what it is.
My personal truth is also born from the strangest of bedfellows – Fanfiction. What the hell does that have to do with my weight/health issues, friendships and the skin I’ve found myself inhabiting over the years? Lots, it turns out. It will all make sense in the end of this essay, I hope.
What is fanfiction, you might ask? Is there a favorite book or movie that you wish would’ve evolved or ended differently? What happened on Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet’s wedding night, after Jane Austen faded to black in Pride and Prejudice? Do you wish Professor Snape has a happier ending in Deathly Hallows? Do you wish Gone With The Wind or Phantom of the Opera ended differently? What might’ve happened had Anakin Skywalker turned away from the Dark Side, and Darth Vader didn’t follow the path he did? What would Edward Cullen be like if he didn’t have to control his blood lust for Bella Swan, but rather lived a human life where he experienced more human-like challenges, and succumbed to his passionate lust for her much sooner than he did in the Twilight saga?
There are millions of what-if stories, probably written about your favorite book or movie, all composed by fans who wanted to explore their own creativity by prolonging the plot or altering events, to scrutinize the possibilities in a way that hadn’t been done before. THAT is fanfiction, and it’s honestly one of my favorite hobbies to read and write. I began reading Jane Austen, Labyrinth and Star Wars fanfiction in my free time, discovering this new form of creativity while I was working in an office as a receptionist back in 1998. It was often slow during long periods of the work day. I needed to find something on the computer screen in front of me because having anything like hardcover books on my desk was discouraged, so reading Fanfiction made me look busy while sitting at my desk, and became a very entertaining and free hobby. That was devious, I know, but it turned out to be be the most fortuitous strategy to beat boredom. You’ll understand why I proclaim that in a few moments, and it was a diversion that got me through some rough patches, that’s for certain.
After suffering four miscarriages, I became pregnant again and it was advised that I go on bedrest for the duration of my pregnancy. I quit my job, and my hobby easily followed me into the safe cocoon of my bed for the next 8 months.
Bedrest worked. My husband and I were blessed with the birth of our first child, and three years later, after being put on bedrest again, our second child arrived safe and healthy.
By then, my heaviest body weight of nearly 300 pounds was reached, and because of that, I found great comfort in the anonymity established and safety secured behind the crystalline silicon scrimmed glass separating me from what I perceived to be the scary, judgy world. While my maternal role as a nurturer was expanding, I failed to to take care of myself physically, reverting to more reclusive pursuits, lurking in places where I felt protected and anonymous.
The internet had always been a dependable safe space, where I was able to engage in intelligent conversation with others while my inactivity remained an anchor to my computer and dysfunctional, compulsive overeating secretly raged. I could be having discussions with others without them ever knowing what I was putting in my mouth, or how much. Unlike sitting across the table from someone as you share a meal, digital interaction allows for the behavior of unhindered consumption to continue unchecked. For food addicts like me, we find solace in the digital ether. It’s gluttony Disneyland, a perfect place to hide and play without ever facing what’s darkening our horizon.
While my babies napped or had playdates, I could be whomever I wanted to be from the safety of my home, sculpting and carefully honing my own virtual reality. It’s where GothicTemptress, my online “skin” and internet pseudonym came to be. It was edgy appellation – I was certainly gothic in my taste in music and attire, and a temptress according to my dear husband Max. Yet the moniker carried with it a feeling of contrivance I couldn’t quite shake, after selecting that name to represent me online. It reeked of impostor syndrome, or fantasy fulfillment at the very least … yet it was a virtual skin I enjoyed embodying, albeit in the shadowy-ether.
It was rare for me to ever post a picture of myself on the internet back then, so I used this avatar to represent me in my burgeoning virtual reality – a pair of stomping Doc Martens:
While I continued to shy away from the outside world, it was about that same time in my life where I reached inward to explore my own creativity.
Writing for me has always been a creative expression I’ve willingly embraced. Even as a child, I used to write short stories and poetry, and so from my earliest memories, words were my favorite artistic medium. As the heavily dog-eared and ink-marred old dictionary and thesaurus in my childhood home attests, words and stories have always been my gloriously revered thing.
It seemed perfectly fitting, then, that I be drawn to literary discussions in my free time, in my adult life — and so being ashamed about my disordered eating, my poor self-esteem and staying inactive due to my vast waistline (finding clothes was hell) and thus my immobility due to joint issues and pain pretty much everywhere, I found an outlet that allowed for self-expression without the limitations or embarrassment of physical presence of others.
Embracing this fresh kind of intellectual expression and freedom, I delved into new websites that specialized in sometimes intense literary discussions, which often focused on interests not comfortably shared with family and friends in real life. I visited and participated in many communities dedicated to Labyrinth (David Bowie in tights *swoons*) and Jane Austen’s works. I’d found a sanctum from the monotony of life and a refuge from the issues surging beneath my surface.
In 2008, I turned from Harry Potter to Twilight Fanfiction. It became a fandom that I fell in love with, a large community with some amazing stories written by very talented men and women. I began to write short stories of my own, hoping that by expressing myself creatively, I could regain some semblance of myself — so I started entering short story writing contests, and then winning them (my stories are all Rated M for adult situations, and can be found at https://www.fanfiction.net/u/151705/GothicTemptress. My confidence grew and I became bolder in putting myself “out there” in certain communities by engaging others in a more meaningful way, where I began participating in conversations rather than lurking.
Within this new digital milieu I was able to experience a semblance of personal growth, safety and escape … It’s when I discovered “The Bunker.”
Bunker – Webster defines it as a “shelter.” It certainly was. In my perverted mind, it also kinda sounds like an exclusive club or a lust-filled den of sexual depravity, doesn’t it? Believe me, it came close in many ways to those things, too. In truth, it was wayyyyyyy better than anything I could dream up for myself at the time, exceeding the clutch or scope of my wildest imagination. It became one of the most inspirational and self-affirming on-line communities I’ve ever encountered, where muses came to motivate, and grew to represent the individualistic and creative freedom I longed for in my real life.
THIS is where things become truly incredible.
One particular Twilight Fanfiction that stole my heart back then was titled Master of the Universe, an addicting story written by online-author Snowqueens Icedragon. It was a gripping tale with a new chapter posting every few days. While the characters were based on the Twilight series, this particular story was about an all-human, complex and often brooding Edward Cullen, who was a billionaire with vast and lucrative successes, and an unsatisfied sexuality that simmered to the surface in very provocative ways.
In this particular story, he was the master of all things, including in the bedroom … where he demands submission and exerts his authority on the willing flesh of his submissives. He doesn’t engage in “vanilla” relationships, or pursue romantic entanglements in the way society’s standards expect. While I personally am quite “vanilla” in this regard, and am only interested in and desire a monogamous relationship with my husband exclusively, the fact that the hero of this story was not a conformist also appealed to GothicTemptress, that silenced and submerged part of me that secretly longed for a molt, for freedom and literal, outward and fearless self-expression … the skin I wished to wear always, not just within the virtual ether.
I inherently identified with the hero in this story, but also with the heroine, too.
At the beginning of Master of the Universe, the hero meets an innocent, virginal Bella Swan, who is not aware of what a submissive is or what his sexual proclivities would realistically demand of her. Her innocence beguiles him, and she is tempted by his smoldering sexuality, which awakens and inflames her unexplored and raw desires in ways she never expects. Add a dash of drama, spanking, mind-games and lots of deliciously explicit kinkyfuckery, and that is what made this recipe for romance the perfect meal to consume on the regular.
The hero in this particular story was hiding many parts of himself, in order to protect his privacy and buffer himself from the pernicious germs of judgment … just as I was doing in real life, beneath the padding I wore on my body as I sought refuge behind my computer screen, or behind my virtual skin.
Similarly, the heroine in this tale subconsciously and even consciously desired to explore more facets of herself, and yet she was not yet able to comprehend how those aspects could help form a more complete and stronger woman. She was me, in a provokingly twisted nutshell, as my subconscious must have detected. And this story owned me, the characters touching me in ways I never expected.
I would drop everything and run into the bathroom if a new chapter posted on-line, doing anything possible to capture moments long enough to soak in each update without burning the dinner I was preparing for my family or disrupting my children’s schedules.
My love of this story was so great that I actively sought out and began participating in a Twilight forum discussion group specifically dedicated to Master of the Universe, and that is where I interacted with the author, Snowqueens Icedragon (or Icy as we lovingly called her) and the other “Bunker Babes,” as Icy called us, her most devoted fans.
Here is a screenshot from those Bunker days, a time that helped transform my life in years to come:
I greatly admired Icy’s writing talents, and truly valued her ability to tell such a gripping story and connect with the readers as she engaged us in story discussions and friendly conversations online. It was a beautiful and creatively inspiring symbiosis between reader and writer, a connection that grew closer with every week. Looking at that screenshot above, I’m amazed that I had nearly 5,000 posts – there was a lot to talk about, and the hours flew by.
Over the years, I grew very familiar and much closer to Erika (Icy’s real first name) and the Bunker Babes — we all displayed that moniker with a great deal of pride … even more-so when Master of the Universe gained so much popularity on-line that it transitioned from Fanfiction into print, soon embraced by a publishing powerhouse and becoming a world-wide phenomenon – selling more copies than the Bible and breaking records in unfathomable proportions, among the biggest selling books of ALL TIME.
That’s right, dear reader. Icy’s hero became Christian Grey. Her heroine became Anastasia Steele. Master of the Universe became the Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy, and the world now knew our Icy, our friend Erika, as the incredibly talented and successful author, EL James.
If you are not aware of this series, her Fifty Shades franchise recently crossed the billion dollar mark – and holy crap, just composing these last few sentences still feels surreal, even though I have a 10 year history in the Bunker and this screenshot above to prove it is veritably, undeniably and gloriously true and very much part of my historical and beautiful reality.
Another beautiful reality is evident in all Erika has been able to accomplish as she’s come into such incredibly good fortune before our eyes.
While an almost unbelievable twist of fate brought us together in the most unexpected of ways, my point for relaying all of this history in this essay is not to focus on the “fame” – it is to showcase how the best friends, the joyrousers in our lives, are the most special gift of all in any scenario … even the most fantastical ones.
Here’s the meat of it — To me and my fellow Bunker Babes, Erika remains our dear and very devoted friend, a loving wife and mother, and someone who always encourages us to follow our own passions and dreams, with the utmost humility and respect for the journeys of everyone she encounters.
Even from the earliest discussions born in The Bunker, Erika supported us at every turn. Before the fame, before the book tours, before the casting and movie shoots and publicity obligations that claimed most of her free time, she and the rest of us made The Bunker discussion group our home away from home. No topic was barred, no kink too weird, and no stigma was applied to our deepest desires or feelings that were expressed. If you’ve read 50 Shades of Grey or seen the movies, you’ll understand why there would be no filter to the discussions – Cat o’ nine tails. Ben Wa balls. Being tied up and teased. Caning and spanking in the Red Room of Pain. We aim to please. Kinkyfuckery. Laters baby!
With no filters or judgment, one discussion in The Bunker led into the next with these wonderful friends, and soon months of discussions turned into years of closeness, even when the hosting website pulled the discussion board off of the internet. Despite initially assuming digital skins to wear as we bonded in the collective ether, we found a respite from work, family issues, worries, life and a tangible connection and kinship with each other … something real.
Some of us have agonized with anxiety, depression, addiction, grappled with weight and health issues, or suffered from a multitude of life challenges and losses — the sisterhood ever-present within the Bunker, coinciding with the events unfolding within each chapter that posted on-line, created the perfect atmosphere to open-up and share what many of us had been withholding our whole lives. It was a climate that harbored open-mindedness, where women were discussing and celebrating their sexuality, similarities, our deepest feelings and even secrets … where we felt free to be who we were without pretense or restrictions.
In that virtual skin, we felt unencumbered, and thrived.
The feeling of inclusion, of acceptance and celebration of who we were individually and then collectively, as we watched our dear friend reach the level of success Erika accomplished, was indescribable, filling us with so much pride for her.
Just thinking about all of this begs the question: What makes a good friend?
My Bunker experience has shaped my beliefs about the attachments I’ve formed in my adult years, and this decade especially has taught me to value the goddesses in my life who are never jealous of success, who always encourage others to strive for their dreams with positivity and empowerment.
I will use her as an example because without her, I don’t believe I’d be who I am today — Erika is an excellent example of a loving and considerate friend. She’s never let fame tarnish the beautiful and thoughtful human being and confidant she’s been to us, and to me. One would think that having a franchise that broke the billion dollar mark would irrevocably change a person. Perhaps, in some ways, it must. Heightened security with body guards, paparazzi infringing on private moments, fans stalking her or us around every corner if we were in her company – yes, some changes are inevitable and are to be expected, in terms of self-protection.
Yet in actuality, fame never altered Erika’s personality of protectiveness and nurturing love for her friends. In fact, she is just as humble, lovely and considerate as she’s always been, honoring her friendships in really extraordinary ways, as friends do.
One way she’s done this is by incorporating her friends into her dream-like experience, by naming characters in her saga and the movies after her friends. To provide additional background and demonstrate what I mean , I’ll include the screenshot of her surprise to me, taken from the official Universal website dedicated to the movie (http://www.fiftyshadesmovieintl.com/es/sip/). My author name is Becca Vry, and so I get to share the “welcoming” SIP receptionist movie character role with Erika’s friend Claire.
In a gracious gesture to show her love to those who have supported her from the very beginning, she carries her friends with her in this remarkably touching way, for always, and in a very public manner. Her friends and loved ones can be found in the character names in the movies and in scenes in the books. It’s one example of joyrousing at it’s finest, where friendship shines and is honored and held in esteem, where gratitude is given.
That esteem, recognition and cherished connection with kindred spirits is something we all appreciate in our friendships, isn’t it? To feel appreciated, and touched by the bonds that shape our happiness and fill our hearts – friendships can be magical, and this example, while extreme and really frickin’ cool I might add, is no exception.
Another way that we honor friendships is by actively trying to maintain a close connection with those whose company we long for and feel close to. I think we all want friends in our lives that not only want us to do well (and visa-versa), but who keep us in their sphere of kindred-spiritedness, their inspirational presence.
In her incredibly unique way, Erika honors her friendships by inviting us to be physically present with her on this journey of a lifetime, welcoming the Bunker Babes and dearest friends to her movie premieres and other events celebrating her wildly successful Fifty Shades franchise. She always values and has never forgotten the friends and fans who rooted for her every step she’s taken towards success.
Dearest reader, if you are still with me on this meandering journey of an essay, you’ll now understand why I went into such detail about aspects of my experience, that may have seemed superfluous at first.
To invite others to share in life’s experiences is what friends do … Erika’s touching invitation to be present for her premier, however, is where my proverbial absence of self melded into an existential cataclysm … the three seemingly convoluted and diverging roads of my weight/health issues, self-neglect and reality converging.
When Universal made the final arrangements for the first premier of the blockbuster movie in the series, Erika invited the Bunker Babes and fellow Twilight fandom friends to New York City for the movie premiere. That was an eye-opening moment for me personally because accepting this extraordinary invitation and honor would require me to pull aside the veil of anonymity, step away from that protective skin behind my computer screen, and enter the daunting sphere of reality-based interaction with friends that grew to be some of the most precious in my life.
In retrospect, this convergence and invitation to the first Fifty Shades of Grey movie premiere forced some unexpected and anxiety riddled self-reflection on my part, sending me into what amounted to be one hell of an existential crises of monumental proportions. It’s something that needed to happen for me to consider the skin I inhabited, the portion contributing to the pound of flesh I would need to confront.
Needless to say, my anxiety soared upon the consideration of making the trip – not because I distrusted the group of women I considered treasured friends and was about to meet, but because the invitation forced me to face the repercussions of my decade long inattentiveness to my own well-being.
In the years between my discovery of The Bunker and the invitation to the movie premiere, I’d entered into therapy to try to treat my anxiety and depression, got a lap-band to help me manage my food intake, and lost about 30 pounds. Yet I hadn’t flown in years, was still morbidly obese, and still prefered the emotional safe-space moulding the ether, found behind closed doors and in the privacy of my own home.
I didn’t know if I was capable of shedding my virtual skin long enough to own my literal one.
Would I be able to find a red-carpet worthy dress, that was not ill-fitting and did not look like I was wearing a tent? Would I be able to fit in an airline seat without crowding my neighbor, or suffer the embarrassment of having to request one of those dreaded belt-extenders, like I had in the past? Would I be able to fit into the seats at the movie premiere, or at the other events I’d be attending?
These were not just vain concerns with no bearing in reality – these fears were debilitating and suffocated all joy from the magical invitation and honor I’d just recieved.
I’ve had chairs collapse from beneath my weight, at my heaviest. I’ve had to smoosh myself between armrests, or not fit at all, thus being forced to move to bench seating in a humiliating march across a restaurant, or out the front door without service because there was no space for me. These concerns were rooted in painful and potent memory.
My fears of embarrassment and anxious inner monologue had a bludgeoning way of tempering my excitement and illuminating my poor self-esteem. Being invited to a movie premiere, where you know there will be a red carpet, thousands of fans and photographers … nothing can prepare you for that. Absolutely nothing can prepare you for the negative thoughts that can result, especially if you’ve grown accustomed to the comfortable anonymity of a virtual reality, and have endured situations where your morbid obesity has wrought mortifying experiences like the ones I’ve experienced and mentioned above.
This burden, this weary and strain-scant skin formed in morbid obesity … it’s not just the actuality of the large number on the scale that defined the decade-long fears bubbling up from within a deep-feed spring as soon as the surface cracked within me. No, it’s also the pernicious experiences in reaction to that heavy burden that fed my deepest fears that they’d be repeated, because they were my deepest, humiliating fears actualized.
Yet after opening up with my goddesses in Chicago and discussing my fears and feelings with Erika and the Bunker Babes, I learned that we ALL were having concerns of our own about what to wear to the premiere, where to buy our dresses, what to wear at various events we’d be attending, etc. We all were experiencing fears, anxiousness, and even difficulties. I learned that I was not the only one with an intense disdain of chairs with armrests, or a fear of not fitting in them comfortably. I learned we all had issues we were having to face, in our own unique ways.
Touchingly, and far more importantly, these joyrousers helped give me the affirmations and confidence to swat away that loud self-doubter within me, as true friends do, and encouraged me to wave goodbye to hesitation and embrace fear in a way that transcended my tenacious anxiousness and horrendous fear of judgment … as someone who suffered beneath the weight of morbid obesity, it was something I was used to.
It was a reality I kept.
So too, was my desire to spend time with these treasured friends, who were truly loving and compassionate, who accepted and encouraged me. This desire to hug everyone in real life usurped hesitation, and I traveled to NYC for this experience of a lifetime.
The reality of meeting and spending so many memorable moments with these beautiful joyrousers surpassed even my wildest of dreams. As we were forced to shift from one skin into another and engaged each other face to face (many of us for the first time, as we are spread out all over the world), hugging in real life and experiencing each other beyond the anonymously limiting factors of text and emojis on screen, something extraordinary happened — traveling from the ether into the real, our friendships and happiness became tangible in the most touching of ways, solidified into real-life and extremely deep connections that were impossible to sever.
Standing together for the first time, after many years on the internet, in an celebratory atmosphere steeped in undeniable pride for the success of our friend Erika, we were able to not only commemorate her achievements … but also revel in our mutual friendships, of the inspiring foundation and camaraderie we stood on equally, as a collective group of women who loved and supported each other through marital problems, layoffs, deaths of beloved loved ones, health scares and grappling with emotional and physical illnesses. An entire chapter of our lives was written with our individual plots coalescing into something extraordinary, a beautiful combination and testament to positivity and friendship.
Just as any extraordinary experience might inspire, it was during that trip to New York that I made the promise to myself to place my emotional and physical health first — to commit to a healthier lifestyle and weight goal, and to never, ever have to worry about reliving embarrassing encounters of breaking or not fitting into a seat ever again. It was a contract with myself that I was determined to honor, and did.
Last February, most of the Bunker Babes were able to fly to Paris to attend the final Fifty Shades of Grey movie premiere. As was our previous experiences on the red carpets, dodging enthusiastic fans and paparazzi at the previous events, it all coalesced into a perfect kind dream. In many ways, it also felt bittersweet because there was a sense of conclusion, the final chapter in our decade-long, dream-like narrative as the last movie in the trilogy was hitting the big screens.
Because the universe has a shockingly salient sense of humor, Mother Nature allowed Snowqueens Icedragon to literally materialize on the same day we were celebrating the pinnacle of Erika’s accomplishments. In the middle of one of the largest snowstorms in Paris’ history, as a wintry abundance of snow white washed this iconic city (just as a mythical dragon might sweep onto the scene in an epic entrance!) we entered the the stunning Salle Pleyel and watched the final movie in the 50 Shades trilogy while a tempest raged outside.
Here is a picture I snapped from Sacré-Cœur Basilica on the morning after the premier, to set the stage.
The unspoken, full-circle moment was not lost on any of us, our beloved Snowqueens Icedragon more than a symbolic manifestation of dreams coming true.
Some of us were unable to fly to Paris due to career/family obligations and were sorely missed, while others were able to attend the third movie premiere in Los Angeles. Here are just a few of us as we we gathered beneath the chrimsim lights of the Salle Pleyel, the hue reminiscent of the salacious “Red Room of Pain,” saturating and baptising those present in shades of sinful pleasure and debauchery. Yes, please:
That moment during Erika’s speech as she lit up when she saw us smiling and waving at her in return:
This movie also held an unexpected surprise for us … a point in the film where she shocked us all by giving an honorary and very obvious and literal nod to the Bunker, that “Club” that led us all to some of the most treasured and important friendships of our lives (screenshot courtesy of Universal):
A table at the Bunker Club … that table was being set a decade before, with the most deliciously satisfying meal of laughter, naughtiness, personal support and friendship … where one bite turned into an insatiable delight and there was never just one drink. I wish there was a camera trained on our section, to catch our joyroused moment of exhilaration and screams when this scene played on the screen. We were seated among some of the social-influencers and actors from the film, near the front of the auditorium, and the rubbernecking in admonishment and glares at our shouty exuberance were comical. We didn’t care. It was impossible to suppress our surprise and gratitude in that precious moment in time.
I still have to pinch myself sometimes, to know that it was real. Any of it. Meeting in an unlikely way, in an obscure little group in an even more minuscule slice of the internet … and then to be present for and witness one of the most extraordinary rises to fame, fortune and happiness of one of our friends – it is still an impossibility for me to find the words to describe my pride in all that Erika has accomplished, and because of her talent and story … how much of a blessing my Bunker friendships continue to bring to my life.
Dreams, and what we consider to be an absurd improbability – they really can become true. If this essay and account of my life experiences teach anything, it is that intangibility does not mean impossible. And just because most of us will never experience specific situations like the ones I describe above does not diminish the arching theme regarding the importance of cherishing the joyrousers in our own lives, and the lessons they lavish on us.
On my flight home from Paris, the tears flowed not only in gratitude for the gifts Erika had bestowed on us by allowing us to be part of her incredible journey and this experience of a lifetime, but because this decade-long Fifty Shades journey with the Bunker Babes has given me the bravery to really and truly look at my own challenges, and face the skin that continually needs to be shed … to chase the tail I need to catch up to, and bite.
Just like the tail biting Ouroboros, that symbol of infinite continuum and regeneration, my fellow joyrousers and I have learned some valuable lessons about forward movement, and how supportive friendships and positivity create a momentum all their own.
Joyrousers are living proof of how the power of positivity continues to help us bloom beyond the confines of our stagnation and hesitations. They give us the encouragement we need to stretch in our own desperate bid for more room, so we might grow. That stretching, that broadening of opportunities, is what makes momentum and forward movement achievable. It not only enables us to reach, but to touch.
As with all true friendships, I have seen what love, respect and consideration means in the relationships that have touched my life, and taught me to cherish those same qualities in the friendships I hold closest to my heart not only in my virtual presence expressed through keystrokes, but in my everyday life I walk through on my own two feet. The joyrousers in my life have taught me so much about life, and the skin I wear. They also inspire me to look ahead, to set my sights on the future … and the future, for all of us, sure is bright.
Erika has begun composing new stories for all of us to enjoy, her creativity branching out in ways that will continue to inspire readers world-wide. Many of the Bunker Babes, fellow Twilight fandom authors and close friends have gone on to become New York Times Best Sellers and Top Sellers on Amazon and in bookstores, with millions of fans of their own. Some are tasting the sweetest success, witnessing their novels being converted to screenplays, a few currently in production and making their way to the small and big screens. Some have begun publishing stories or begun the creative process of composing novels for future publication (myself included), embracing our own creativity in ways that reaffirm the amazing support we’ve all encouraged in each other along the way. Some have begun exploring their talents in art, book design, and photography. Some have actualized their own dreams by opening their own businesses. Some have become active advocates for causes campaigning homelessness, autism, poverty and the hearing impaired.
Many of us, like me, harnessed the support of our dear friends and pushed on through motionless years of denial and missed opportunities, and seized the momentum to change our lives and health for the better. That support has personally given me the confidence and resolve to better myself for the sake of my own health, and to be a good example for my own children and others around me. With the support and encouragement of my husband Max (who’s lost more than 130 pounds himself), my family and my treasured friends, I’ve maintained my weight loss and continue to strive to be a better, healthier and a more inspirational woman, wife, mother, and friend. Others have joined me in their own quest on a more fulfilling, active and health-affirming momentum into the future, achieving healthier weights and/or health goals, too.
All, in our own ways, appreciate the presence of and strive to become purveyors of joy. I believe we, in our own unique ways, can succeed beautifully, with the support of those that love us. THAT is the true beauty of empowering and positive-affirming friendships.
I believe that to be the fundamental truth and power that joyrousers have in our lives.
As is the case with those that stir and encourage happiness, life is better with them in it. True friends are exactly that … they continue to inspire, to amplify their thoughtfulness and ambitions in their own fields of influence, affecting so many around them and pushing others to form their own dreamscapes. These marvelous friends of mine continue to be remain down to earth, incredibly humble and just all around beautiful human beings.
The more I reflect on my life experiences in the last decade, and contemplate the lingering doubts I’ve suffered in the past, I begin to realize one of the most powerful lessons I’ve gained from watching those friends I love and care about reach a level of success that seems unbelievable:
Our worth is not only found in what we do in life, but also in who we are and how we treat others on our journey.
I hope that this doesn’t sound trite or disingenuous, because I don’t mean to diminish the success or accomplishments of anyone, downplaying what are, undoubtedly, remarkable life achievements. I knew Erika before she achieved her level of success as EL James, and I knew the Bunker Babes and many more talented and now famous authors, with their humble beginnings in the Twilight Fandom, before they progressed towards their own inspiring achievements. Very few will have had the ability to experience, first hand, what Erika or the group of us experienced while we watched her unlikely and awe-inspiring trip into the stratosphere of fame … but that fact is truly secondary to the prevalent and undeniable theme that true, positive and supportive friendships allow us to experience a happier and more fulfilling life.
We ALL can attest to the importance of joyrousers in our own lives, can’t we?
Happiness and dreams are intrinsically intertwined, and yet there is a deeper truth when we are open to the notion of dissecting their synchronicity to the broader world around us, where everything is relative. EVERYTHING.
Myopia can be poisonous, and even infectious. I learned this the hard way. Failing to be self-critical long enough to be honest with myself, to neglect the reassessment of my own happiness and health, as I did for so long, kept me in a constricted and suffocating skin of unhappiness. I’ve come to believe that avoiding personal apathy, or encouraging reflection in those that subscribe to or suffer from it, is the healthiest and most self-preserving thing one can do. I remind myself every day, sometimes every hour, to not allow the creeping temptation of short-sighted self doubt or fear of failure to infiltrate my beautiful and promising now, because right now is all I have.
That’s true for all of us. And my now includes this opportunity to share my journey with you.
My closest friends, my chosen tribe of kindred joyrousers, are goddesses – they are all powerful creators of joy, who encourage, who lift up, and inspire. I may see them on a daily or weekly basis, or less frequently due to distance or conflicting time constraints (as is with my fandom friends, Erika and the Bunker Babes, and dear friends that have moved far away from Chicago to pursue their own dreams and happiness). They are the friendships that do not drain energy, but recharge and leave me feeling as though I’m empowered and ready to take on the challenges confronting me, including the one most daunting to face … the reality I kept.
I have spent countless hours in cognitive therapy and treatment for compulsive/disordered over-eating and food addiction, trying to understand why it is that I made this choice to keep what I had, at my own detriment. My issues were layered and entwined in knots so tight that I may be unraveling them for years to come. I’ve accepted that difficult process as an extension of my personal growth, healing and hopefully a sign of maturity. I just know that I padded my frame to such an extent that I damaged my body, and risked my future, just by the debilitating weight of it all.
The reality I kept was hurting me. Literally. My self-harming pounds of flesh. I’m still grappling with it all, honestly, but I’ve learned to mirror the biological process of my body ridding its outer layer, by reassessing the literal and figurative skin I chose to remain in, every month, and even more often if I must. The rousers of joy in my life help inspire me to make this a priority, and visa versa. If my body creates a whole new skin every month, I sure as hell can do better about mirroring the action of rejuvenation of mind, body and spirit!
For me, this not only applies to reassessing my health, but also my creative endeavors and how I’m actualizing my dreams into reality.
My friendships and my life-experiences have illustrated that we all have our reasons for keeping what we do, erecting filters that deprioritized our health and/or our happiness and emotional well-being. Just as the virtual skin many of us remain in to protect ourselves, so too does that protective aspect transcend to other motivations in our everyday lives. It doesn’t have to involve an unhealthy relationship with food or morbid obesity, like my situation illustrates. Our reasons could involve family demands, career issues, souring relationships with others, financial or health challenges, or tragedy or any number of things … we all have excuses for not reaching for the finish lines we long to cross, the dreams we could strive harder to make real.
We all have reasons to fear emulating the Ouroboros, ultimately claiming a new beginning as our own. I am proof that this fear is very, very real, and understand why others would experience trepidation when contemplating this daunting task for themselves. Yet it often takes the thoughtful and sometimes slightly-jarring nudge of the goddesses that love us to understand that we deserve that dream-like future — that we are capable of breaking free from what we allow to constrain us.
As was with my own Fifty Shades experience, it took extraordinary and supportive friends, near and far, for me to accept the possibility of my potential — to accept the process of enlightenment. In turn, their belief in me and their encouragement helped me accept that I was worthy of health, success and joy … enough to actually do something about bettering my own future.
I believe that’s been my most powerful lesson of all, on this crazy and often surprising life-journey of mine … Yes, it’s important to acknowledge, prioritize and cherish the joyrousers in our lives. It’s even more important that we take ownership of our own skin, or own potentially beautiful future, by emulating their undeniable light and become the rouser of joy within ourselves. That self-love and personal accountability and encouragement will enable us to shine brighter than we ever thought possible.
I will continue to aim for that for myself and I wish the same for you, dear reader. I hope I’ve inspired you, even in some small way, to reflect on your own journey of joyrousing.
As my title of this essay suggests, it’s time to consider the skin to be shed, and rouse within us the strength and determination to do what must be done, don’t you think? Whatever that means to me, and whatever that means to you … we must make ourselves the priority. Are you ready to join me? It’s time to rouse joy!
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About the Author:
A Chicago native who prefers highrise living and hasn’t owned or driven a car in over twenty years, Becca Vry is a married, stay-at-home mother of two daughters. When not doing the mom thing, she can be found at Art Galleries, poetry readings, creating something on a canvas or through her keyboard, bounding in the mosh pit at a concert with her beloved husband Maximilian, or on the dance floor of her favorite Chicago Goth/Industrial haunts. No matter the setting, she is usually wearing black and her sidewalk-stomping Doc Martens.
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