Saturday, 27 August 2011

The Wavering

It has occurred to me that in very short order I will be changing the way that I do everything in my life.  That's not something I like to do in general.  I like it when things stay the same, and there is the temptation to simply sit back and let my life go by.  To continue the way I am would be the easiest way to kill myself, and to do that by eating myself deeper and deeper into obesity.  By staying on this path I will effectively destroy my spirit and self esteem. The reason I eat, is to make me feel better, I struggle with my self esteem - and don't feel beautiful, and so I eat to feel better, which results in me gaining weight.  It's a vicious cycle. Not only that, I am so focused on food, instead of what is important that I am missing out on what God wants me to do and to accomplish, and teach my children.  Change is my only option, and yet, it's interesting that I am experiencing feelings that want me to run back to what is familiar.  Feelings that tell me that I will never be able to eat what I want to eat again, and what is there that's better in life? I guess I need to find that out. I have some goals, and some dreams in mind that I can't even verbalize yet, because I am still shaky on whether or not I'll get there.  I am determined to try. I am determined to be able to tell the difference between hunger and a craving.  I am determined to understand the why Christ sees me, and what he thinks is possible for my future.  I will see this healthy eating plan as an opportunity.  I will see the things that I can't eat as permissible but not beneficial to my body. I will learn how to take chances and to live my life instead of be a slave to it.

Thursday, 25 August 2011

Let's be Honest

Today I am more energized about this whole weight loss idea. I finally was able to put my order in, and I am looking toward the future. I've been reading a book lately called, Made to Crave by Lysa Terkheurst, and a chapter called, Made for More really opened my eyes to why I have this eating problem, and I am made for more in life than being a slave to what I eat.  Every time I sit down to a meal, I feel as though I have to eat enough in case I don't get to eat again.  I don't know where I picked that up, but for 99% of the days I've been alive, I've eaten more than once.  

My biggest  excuse to eat is celebrations, but it does seem that I have something to celebrate at every meal, be it that it actually is a party or holiday, or that I feel like I've had a hard day and deserve to eat.  I was talking to my sister the other day, and telling her I didn't know how I would do on the diet during celebration times.  My sister has never had issues with food, and looked at me as if I almost wasn't making sense and said, stick to the diet. People understand when others are trying to eat healthy. It was so simple and logical, and it gave me a huge insight into how my sister approached eating. Instead of being controlled be eating, I want to be able to eat and celebrate in life, but also hold back and not be so out of control. When someone shakes my hand and says "How are you?" instead of being a fraud and answering, "We're great!" I want to mean it.

Wednesday, 24 August 2011

Here - in the waiting

So, I finally get up enough guts to do this thing, set up in my mind a diet plan of action, prepare myself by reading books about why I can't control my weight, and now I can't get a hold of the woman who has the diet plan.  I'm in this weird state of limbo - my brain constantly going back and forth between whether I should start now, watch my food and intake and lose some weight, or eat everything I can get my hands on because starting soon, I won't be able to.  I am hoping that I still weigh only the whopping 203 lbs, but I've also taken to avoiding the bathroom because the scale is in there, and it might just jump out at me and demand to tell me my weight - and it might be more than 203 lbs. 

I got myself into this - Why is getting out such a struggle? I don't feel sorry for myself, I just want to change the bad choices I've made. I'll get there, I know I'll be able to start soon, and that's when the real battle begins.  It's scary starting something you don't necessarily know you'll be successful doing.

Tuesday, 23 August 2011

The Challenge

I don't challenge myself. I'm too comfortable, that's probably why. The hardest thing I've ever done was to experience labor, and that was only because I HAD to.  When my due date was finally looming over me, and I had not succeeded in convincing ANYONE else to take my place in the delivery room, I figured someone had better do it - and the best option was me. Cheers to you super moms out there who have successfully completed labor without the aid of a single Tylenol, in all seriousness, I salute you. But, that just wasn't on my radar and I was begging for the Epidural - which I never got...I like things to be easy, and quick and painless for the most part.  But, the lesson I learned on the day my son was born, was that some times hard work produces the very best reward, and as I cradled him in my arms the very next day I declared - I'd do that again.

But, like I say, I don't like to do hard things.  I don't like to be outside my comfort zone, and I certainly don't like interacting in the lives of strangers.  Though I avoid the hard things, they have been the most rewarding of my life so far.  So much so, I should actually pursue them.  Strangely enough, this hard thing also involved a birth experience - thankfully, not my own.  I had my 2 year old, and my newborn and was stopped for a quick lunch at a nearby McDonalds going from one appointment to the next.  I was in a rush, and encouraging my 2 year old to eat, and in the midst of it all fielding generous compliments about my newborn, I noticed that the woman behind the counter was VERY pregnant.  I spoke to her only briefly, but was later approached by a chatty, gossip filled co-worker to this pregnant lady.  "She's scared." The grey haired Grandma, leaned over, and informed me as she swept the floor around my table. "Oh?" I asked, trying to be polite and conversational, but hoping the woman would hurry on and find another task to complete.  In spite of myself, I asked, "Why is that?" The woman stopped and leaned toward me, and whispered like we were old friends. "She doesn't have anyone to go to the hospital with." The thought was laughable. What pregnant woman in our first world country didn't have SEVERAL eager relatives and friends to attend the birth of her baby. My own delivery room was graced with many family members who I couldn't convince to leave, even by throwing up.  Then it started to sink down deep into my gut, right around nine that night, something in my spirit wouldn't let it go. I returned to the McDonalds in the next few days, and found the woman, and told her, only partially believing she wouldn't laugh at me that I would be happy to go with her if no one else was around. Sure enough, two weeks later I found myself driving this practical stranger to the hospital, helping her up to the labor and delivery floor, walking with her and rubbing her back during contractions, encouraging her through her epidural, and ultimately like many a proud father sitting at her bedside during her c-section waiting for the arrival of her beautiful, fuzzy haired baby boy. See what happens when you accept a challenge? When I asked God why he'd sent me, he told me, "Because she needed someone." It wasn't even about me - but the reward, that was incredible.  

So, here's the challenge, to look at myself in the mirror and like what I see on the inside, and appreciate what I see on the outside. To stop being 203lbs and to start being healthy, to be honest with myself and with other people, and to change not only the way I look at food, but the way I live for Christ. So, does it take a diet to change the way you live? I don't know, but I know it's a step in the right direction.

Monday, 22 August 2011

"I think you've lost yourself, you don't know who you are any more."

I weigh 203 lbs.  TWO-HUNDRED and THREE pounds.  Even writing that down for it to be spoken out loud makes me want to curl up with anything I can dig out of the fridge and eat my way through it. When I looked at the scale yesterday afternoon I was sure that there was more something wrong with my vision than there was with my weight.  I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  I've never - except during pregnancy, and you can hardly blame a girl for packing on the pounds when there's a baby helping out - been over 200 pounds ever.  It was never fun being around 190lbs but  it was sort of a strange place of pride for me, that even though I knew I let myself go, I never let myself go that far. 

Becoming a mother has been the single greatest joy of my life, so much so that I've done it twice...so far.  I want more than anything else to be happy, healthy and well adjusted, but so far things don't seem to be working out that way.  I am on my way to becoming morbidly obese, I'm not happy with myself or who I am, and feel as though any appearance of being "well adjusted" is faked.  In talking with my parents in desperation over these facts that I am fat and feel not only unsupported but overwhelmed, my father said to me, "I think you've lost yourself, you don't know who you are any more."  In that moment, it was profound.  It came from my Dad, which is one thing, he doesn't say much but when he does, the guy is deep.  So, here I am, up to my eyeballs in what I am now calling The Dunamis Project. I am out to lose weight, and to find out who I am - with kids and a husband, and where I fit in this life. God help me.

Here's to transparency.  Let the world know, it's August 22nd, and I am 203 lbs.

August 22, 2011 - 203 lbs.

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