Just Keep Swimming!

It's been just over eight months since I started losing weight, and I sit here down 54 pounds. I feel great! I have more energy, I can breathe better, I have less headaches, and I just feel better. Such a wonderful feeling!

And I feel like I have learned so much on this journey. I still have a long way to go, but it finally seems manageable. To sit and think "I need to lose 100 pounds" is a daunting thought, and I found it weighed me down immeasurably. But I broke down the goal this time. It wasn't about the total 100 pounds anymore, it became, "I will lose 10 pounds." And then once I did that, it was easier to say "Well, I lost 10, I think  I can do another 10." And each goal built upon itself, and here I am now. I now have less to lose than I have already lost. Which is totally awesome! And along the way, I have learned some valuable emotional health tools as well. Having my half cup of ice now and then is not "cheating." I am not "bad" because I choose to indulge in a snack. And you know, since I no longer label myself as "bad," for having a sugar-filled treat, I no longer feel compelled to think "Well, I'm already 'bad,' might as well finish off the whole tub while I am at it." I don't berate myself anymore for a food choice. I am not a bad person, I am not an evil person. I simply enjoy sugary-foods. And sugary foods (ice cream, cookies, cake, etc) ARE NOT BAD. They can be eaten in over-abundance, they can be over-indulged in, but they are not BAD foods. And because I recognize that a treat now and then is not bad, then I am no longer a bad person.

And why did I think I was a bad person? I consider myself to be caring, intelligent, kind, and successful. I try to help others, I try to watch my temper, and I try to be better today than I was yesterday. I haven't killed anybody or assaulted anyone. I don't rob stores, I don't steal from others. I don't break the law, even traffic laws. So why did I tie my food choices to my moral character?? I do not have the answer to that yet, but I do know that I was wrong to do that, not bad, but wrong. And that is okay. When we realize we are wrong, and accept that we need to change, we can do that. 

And so to you I say, you are not a bad person because of what you choose to eat. Unless you are choosing to eat your fellowman, your moral character is not determined by what you eat.

Comparing pictures

I thought it might be fun to compare my picture starting this blog and today. So, here goes!
 
This is April 2011

This is me today, October 4, 2011

I don't really like those last two pictures, as my posture is off, but I realized I looked happy, so I kept them :D

Disappointed

I feel like I finally have a new lease on life. Losing so much weight, and finally being successful in it has really helped me want to succeed in other areas, like as a parent and as a wife. I have been trying so hard to be better. And I felt like I was doing better. I felt like I had improved so much. But then people I love and respect feel the need to tell me that I am not. Some of these I could blow off. But when it is multiple people telling me I'm not good enough, I fear it must be true. And that hurts. I really felt like I was making some marked improvement. I really felt like I was becoming a better person, and I just feel like I have failed. I feel I have failed everyone. My health issues are discouraging, because here I am finally fixing my weight, and then I start getting all of these infections. I finally feel like I am making some headway in who I am, being a better me, and then people point out my continued imperfections. And these are people who are supposed to love me, therefore their perceptions of me must be correct.

What is the point of even trying anymore, when it seems nobody notices the improvement? Yes, people have noticed my weight loss, and that is good. But my health is worse now, I think, than before. I felt like I was a better person, but no, not good enough. And I struggle with people's perceptions of me.

I used to say that I didn't care what people thought of me, it only mattered what I thought of me. But I feel brow-beaten down. And it hurts. And I find that it does matter what people think of me. Especially certain people. And there is a part of me, a large part of me that wants to retaliate, to hurt those people as they have hurt me. But I feel so dejected, and let down, and low, and humiliated, that I can't even begin to get mad enough to do so. I just hurt. I appreciate a constructive remark now and then. I appreciate honesty. But I feel so low, that all I want is an encouraging word. And comment of "Hey, I've noticed you are trying to do better, keep it up!" Or, "Way to go!" Or even just a simple "I am so proud of you."  I am finding that I do care what others think of me. And I am finding that I don't like what they think. And I am realizing that the opinions of certain people especially, matter to me. I feel like I have failed those I love most. And when I feel this way, other comments people have made to me in the past, come flooding back. And they fill my mind with tormenting insults. "Can I tell you something as a mother? You are an embarrassment to your children." "I would hate to be your mother." "Nobody could ever like you."

And when my mind is flooded with those thoughts, my own inner demon begins to shout out loudly, "See! I told you that you would fail" and "I told you that it would be better to not try, because then you wouldn't fail." or "It would have been better if you had just stayed the way you were." "Nobody likes you." And then I feel, "why did I even bother to try?" Why did I think that I deserved to be healthy? Why did I think that I deserved some happiness in my own skin? Why did I think I could succeed? I have failed every.single.time I have attempted to improve. Maybe I am permanently broken. Maybe I am just some slip-shod measure of a being, one that doesn't matter, never has, and never will. And that I am permanently, irrevocably, and forever screwed up. I don't deserve happiness. I don't deserve what I have. My children do not deserve to have me for a mother. My husband does not deserve to be stuck with me as a wife. My parents and siblings do not deserve to have to be related to me. And when I let myself fall so far down into a hole, it is then that I allow my deepest, darkest, most evil inner demon to speak. He is an ugly, black-hearted, nay without a heart, cruel creature. And he promises a release from all the pain. He promises a doorway to it being all over. And he holds it out on a tempting tray. Beautified to hide what kind of evil he really offers.

And it is then, that I revolt. That I turn around and run. And I once again lock him up in his cage, and I promise once more to throw away the key, and never visit him again. Because you see, I do deserve happiness. I do deserve to have a healthy life. I do deserve my life. I do deserve to live. Yes, I make mistakes. Yes, I fall down sometimes. And yes, I even fail and screw up and totally foul up everything I touch.  But I am worth dragging my sorry butt off the floor, and pulling myself up out of the hole. I am worth soldiering on. I am worth a measure of happiness. And I am worth trying one more time.