by Jen Bricker
Heartbreak is different for everyone who experiences it. Sometimes it’s in the moment—as in my awful breakup. Sometimes it’s the weight of the past and a near lifetime of regret. My birth mother, Camelia, has had an extremely difficult time letting go of the heartbreak of giving me up for adoption. That loss consumed her for so long that it was difficult for her to see or speak to me without blaming herself and reliving that dark, painful period in her life. But like me, she’s a woman of great faith. Slowly, her heart is healing. We have a long way to go in our relationship, but God is working to make her whole again, to help her regain what she thought was lost forever. That’s the other great thing about real, true love: it never dies.
Love Yourself First
You can have a happy relationship—either friendship or romance—only if you love yourself first. When you don’t love yourself, what ends up happening is that you put all your expectations for happiness on another human being instead of on God—and that’s a recipe for disaster. Human beings are fragile and flawed. We disappoint and make mistakes. And how can you expect someone to love you for who you are if you don’t love and know yourself? How can you expect to be adored and appreciated when you look in the mirror and hate what you see? Again, it’s a simple equation: what you put out there equals what you get back. Love yourself and you will be lovable.
Of course, that’s easier said than done. I’ve had a lot of body issues to contend with. As a kid I hated my big, bulky arms, but things really escalated when I was twenty years old and twenty pounds heavier than I am now. I think the weight gain was due to the stress of being on my own, coupled with the fact that I had no idea how to eat healthy. My four basic food groups were Pasta Alfredo, pizza, pop, and fast food. Growing up, it didn’t seem much of an issue to be chubby. To be honest, most people where I’m from were at least a few pounds overweight. We eat fried food and corn bread, and we’re okay with it! But once I entered the entertainment world, I realized my body type was far from ideal. Everyone looked like chiseled Greek statues to me: rock-hard abs, sculpted arms and shoulders, buns you could bounce a quarter off of!
When I started training with Nate, we would meet up five days a week and train for two to three hours. I started reading health and nutrition books, trying to figure out how to think of food as fuel—not just something to fill my face with. One morning I woke up and noticed all my clothes were too big on me. I had lost fifteen pounds, but that was just the start.
In 2011, when I was living in LA, I had my first workout with my trainer, Eric Fleishman (“Eric the Trainer”). His specialty is body transformation, but in my case, it was a mental as well as physical change. He showed me what to eat and what not to eat: bye-bye pasta, rice, potatoes, and my favorite whole-wheat bagels topped with peanut butter and bananas! My first meal of the day became an egg-white omelet with half a can of tuna and half a cup of chopped veggies, topped with a spoonful of avocado and salsa. Most of the exercises we did were for the lower body—ironic for a girl with no legs! We did crunches, kick-ups, hydrants, and endless push-ups. I was worried it would make my arms bigger—always my pet peeve. But Eric promised it wouldn’t, and he was right. By age twenty-four, I’d lost thirty pounds, nearly five inches from my waist, and six inches off my hips. I was the leanest I’d ever been and living strong in a body I had thought would never be possible for me.
* * *
My VIPs
Best Trainer Ever: Eric Fleishman
You know that magical, positive energy that makes any normal situation special? It’s the difference between a regular action film and a James Bond movie. That’s the sparkle that Jen Bricker possesses. And her positive vibe is contagious! Jen can cheer up any grumpy person. Essentially, she turns any ordinary day into a James Bond movie.
* * *
Soon after, enamored with my new body, I became obsessed with being and staying thin. When size 00 shorts were hanging off me, I wasn’t satisfied. I felt myself being dragged into a dangerous and dark downward spiral. I had body dysmorphic disorder (BDD), though I couldn’t admit it at the time. It’s self-loathing: your head just gets stuck on these negative thoughts about how you look and keeps playing them back to you like a scratched vinyl record. No matter how many people told me I looked great/fine/beautiful, I didn’t believe it and couldn’t see it. I would stare at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom, scrutinizing every angle, standing sideways, checking out my butt, pinching every inch of flesh. With each glance, I would tear myself apart. I was relentless and merciless: What’s that poof in my stomach? Does my face look rounder? Do I look fat? I started eating so little that my hair was thinning, my periods became irregular, and I was miserable. I didn’t go to parties or meet people in restaurants because I didn’t want to be tempted by food. Instead, I would meet them in a coffee shop so I could order just a cup of tea.
My friend Grant finally sat me down and gave me a stern talking to. “Jen, you’re too skinny,” he said. “You’ve lost your butt; you’ve lost your boobs. Your eyes are all sunken in! What are you doing to yourself? You have to stop!”
I was so defensive and angry. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how hard I’ve worked to look like this?” I didn’t talk to him for a few days until I realized he was 100 percent right. I wasn’t healthy. And worse than that, this false body image I’d created for myself—this impossible ideal—was stealing my light and my joy. I hadn’t been fully Jen for a long time, and I didn’t know how to get her back. I think that whole experience brought me much closer to God because I was so far down that I didn’t know how I would get up. I had to pray constantly and ask Him to help me find my way back.
I began with affirmations. I told myself, “You are not fat. You are beautiful in God’s eyes.” I let those words sink in. Finally, I challenged myself to go forty days without looking at my body in a mirror. I covered the full-length mirror in my bedroom with photos of things that made me happy: pictures of me doing gymnastics and of friends and family and home, articles about me in magazines. Suddenly that mirror stopped pointing a finger and instead became a symbol of all of God’s gifts. That giant collage brought me back to liking and loving myself and being grateful for the body I’m in. I’m still not going to let much junk food cross these lips, and I’m still going to work out hard—but I’m going to love what God created and not punish myself for failing to fit into a certain mold. I’d spent so much of my life trying to bust out of stereotypes, and here I was thinking I had to look and be a certain way.
I’m probably never going to look like anyone else, and that’s fine. I kind of like to stand out in a crowd.
BELIEVE IT!
Mr. Right Is Out There
I’ve made enough mistakes in my dating life to know now the things that do and don’t work for me. The perfect man for me is someone who is trustworthy, honest, sincere, and polite, and who calls instead of texts. He has a sense of humor and a sense of adventure. He doesn’t play mind games and respects my mind. He’s out there. I’ve always said I’ll be single for the rest of my life before I settle, but I know I won’t have to. My parents have given me one strong bit of advice on the subject (since then they’ve butted out): make sure the person you choose is someone you can sit and talk with, because when you’re retired, that’s what you do all day! They should know; they’ve been married forty-three years. Love can’t just be about that instant attraction (although that’s part of it). It has to be deeper. There needs to be not only chemistry but also a connection. I do believe in soul mates, and I have faith that God has one for me.
* * *
CHAPTER TEN
Ordinary Heroes
* * *
It is not by sword or spear that the LORD saves; for the battle is the LORD’s.
—1 Samuel 17:47
My favorite Bible story is David and Goliath, probably because it’s about the little guy (I can totally relate) who goes up against the giant and defeats him. I can’t imagine how terrifying it must have been for
David to face Goliath—an enormous, trained, and skilled soldier. David had none of Goliath’s skills or size, and if anyone was betting, I guarantee no one was putting any money on him.
So what made David so heroic? What gave him the courage to go up against the toughest odds and the fiercest opponent? Faith. He knew he was called by God to defeat the great warrior, and he fought boldly in faith. I love this story because it relates so much to real life. We all have “Goliaths” in our lives. They may not be giant warriors. Maybe they’re not even people but are, instead, situations or circumstances. Whenever I find myself fighting against the odds, whenever I feel overwhelmed and outmatched, I turn to God to inspire me. Through Him, everything is possible. Didn’t He prove that with David?
This story also reminds me that anyone can be a hero. You don’t have to be born into it. You don’t have to have status or money or a fancy education. Everyone has their own definition of what it means to be a hero. I love Marvel Comics superheroes, but the tights and cape aren’t necessary to exhibit heroic qualities. In my mind, heroes are people I admire, look up to, respect, revere. People who, in the moment, do something selfless and noble, generous and genuine. They go out of their way to make a difference in someone’s life or the world as a whole, with little fear of what others might think or say.
As I’m writing this, I’m thinking to myself, This description fits my parents to a T. Yet neither of them would ever admit that. That’s another heroic quality: humility. My mom will tell you that I blessed her life more than she ever blessed mine. And my dad? He would shrug it off as “no big deal.” It was a big deal to me! When I think of how much my parents did to ensure I was happy, healthy, confident, and safe, I wonder, How can I fill those shoes? I don’t know, but I’ll try. I’ll try to live up to their examples when I’m a parent to my own kids.
My family is filled with heroes. When my brother Brian joined the navy, it certainly made him a hero in my eyes. I was about ten years old when we visited him on his ship when he was stationed in Virginia. For the record, since I was very young, I have always insisted on calling Brian “Bubba” and got flat-out offended when anyone else did the same. It was my nickname for him, no one else’s! Bubba would fight for me without me needing to ask—he has in the past. One time our whole family was shopping in a Sam’s Club, and some guy came over to us and made a nasty comment about “bringing a cripple out in public.” Bubba jumped at him, saying a few choice words, and my parents had to talk Bubba down.
My friend Grant would also fight for me. After I first moved to LA, I had a really tough time getting a job. I know! Me of all people! I love talking to people and am a highly efficient worker, so why on earth couldn’t I find a job for nine months? While I was living in Florida, I had no trouble at all. But in LA, I started to see a pattern evolving. I would interview, things would go well, and then nothing. They’d pass me over for someone else.
I asked Grant if he thought it was because people were afraid to hire someone in a wheelchair. Neither of us could believe that was the issue—it was such out-and-out discrimination. Then one day I called a store that was hiring, and the man on the phone told me to come right in. “You sound like the perfect candidate!” he told me enthusiastically.
When I got there, he took one look at me and paused. I know that pause. I know that look. Then he stammered, “Uh, let me go get a paper in the back.” I said okay, and then I waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. I looked around, and all the other employees were looking at me. One of them shook her head and said, “I’m so sorry.” I realized what was happening: he wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t even going to give me the opportunity to apply.
I think I literally had steam coming out of my ears. I flew out of the store in total shock. I had never been treated like that before. Grant had been waiting outside the store for me, and when I told him what had happened, he instantly got that look on his face.
“Wait!” I said, grabbing his arm. “Stop! Don’t do it!”
But it was too late—there was no holding him back. “I’m going in there,” he said. “You can either stay out here or come in with me.” Of course I went back in. I was afraid of what he might do, and the last thing I wanted was a big scene. Grant asked for the clerk, and he finally came out of hiding. They got into a huge argument in the middle of the store, and I was between the both of them, trying to referee. I couldn’t believe the clerk was arguing instead of apologizing! Amazingly, the other employees saw what was going on and spoke up in my defense. They weren’t on his side.
* * *
My VIPs
My Friend: Cody Craig
It was the summer of 2003. I saw a really cute girl with no legs at the county fair (ugh, that sounds so hillbilly). I decided to say hello, not realizing what an amazing person she would become and already was. We discovered that we had friends in common and soon became friends ourselves. Three years later, I took Jen to her senior prom. It was the only time I ever saw her wear artificial legs. Her dad showed me how to release the knee joint so that she could sit in my car. To do so, he had to reach under her dress. Despite the knee joint being nowhere near actual flesh, he said, “I’m going to allow you to reach up here” in complete seriousness as he showed me how to release the joint.
In the winter of 2012, I saw Jen’s Facebook post saying she was looking for a roommate and decided to pack up and move to California. I had the most wonderful experience living with her. She loves Pop-Tarts, but they’re not part of her healthy lifestyle, so I had to give her a piece of mine every time I ate one when she was around. She made it so much easier to meet new people because she was always meeting new people herself. She once arrived at a church community group by herself and, when confronted with a set of stairs, climbed the stairs while dragging her wheelchair behind her. She wears a ridiculous old-lady hat when going for walks in the park but still manages to look cute.
She is a terrible backseat driver, although, oddly enough, this didn’t come up once when we drove halfway across the country together and had such great conversation that we never turned on the radio. She puts on an eye mask when she sleeps and lies flat on her back like a vampire. She would almost always get up before me in the morning and get my iPad from behind my air mattress to watch TV or browse the internet. Although she tried to be quiet, she woke me up almost every time.
Jen is one of the people I admire most in the world.
* * *
Well, a month or so later, Grant actually got hired at the store (go figure) and learned that the clerk had been fired after the incident! I just hope he took away something positive and learned a lesson from the experience. And I hope he reacts differently the next time. I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older to keep my temper in check. I never want to be the one pitching a fit or causing a scene. I feel that only feeds and fuels the stereotype that disabled people are too politically correct and difficult and sensitive. I know better ways to get a point across. But I have to admit, having Grant there to defend and stand up for me that day was kind of nice. I never have to worry—my friends have my back.
Not all heroes are strong defenders. Some are quiet, hidden champions we never know about or even notice. They are humbly and secretively awesome, and never brag about it. They don’t need to advertise it on a billboard or broadcast it over the internet. Many people give their time, money, and love to the less fortunate and ask for nothing in return—not even an acknowledgment. Those kind of people are my heroes—they are game changers and life changers. Others are heroes because they live their lives authentically—what you see is what you get. They will never change or hide who they are or what they believe to be popular or to meet the status quo. They speak their truths and inspire others to do the same.
I was introduced to Francis Chan’s writing in the beginning of 2010 when I first started going to Real Life church in Orlando. My community group read his book Crazy Love together. Francis is an amazing giver. He’s a pastor, a bestselling author, and the founde
r and chancellor of Eternity Bible College. He gives away about 90 percent of his income, doesn’t take a salary from his church, and has donated most of his book royalties to charities. Each week my group went through a different chapter, reflected on it, and discussed its relevance to our own lives. Then we watched Francis’s videos to take the study even deeper. That book opened my eyes to the concept of truly practicing what you preach. Francis is a hero to me because he leads a truly authentic life. He is on fire for God, and his passion helped ignite my own faith. His honesty and rawness are absolutely heroic to me, and he’s someone I’ve always wanted to meet in person. I would be blown away.
Another personal hero of mine is Nick Vujicic. He’s an Australian-born motivational speaker who was born with Phocomelia, a rare disorder that caused him to be born missing all four limbs. He grew up struggling, yet God helped him overcome many physical and emotional obstacles. God clearly wanted me and Nick to meet. In September 2014, I got a last-minute call to be a part of a red-carpet charity event in Dallas, Texas. The same night I flew in, the organizers of the event invited twenty or so of the participants to a big dinner in the hotel. I remember there was a very long table, and I slid all the way down to the middle so everyone else could pile in. A guy slid in next to me and introduced himself as Raymund King, Nick’s lawyer.