Wondering and Wandering

The Hebrews wandered in the desert for 40 years with the wrong perspective, the wrong attitude, and the wrong expectations. 

I kind of wonder if that is what this has been—my desert. My time of refining. I just finished re-reading every word I’ve written here, and I can’t help but feel like a fool—how high my expectations were for so long, and how far I have fallen since then. I’m back at ground zero, having gotten to the wall around my personal Promised Land and having been overwhelmed by the task still ahead. And so back to the desert I went to wander and reflect. God has done wonders and miracles, and I’d nearly made it, but I let doubt overtake hope, and I turned away. 

Today we had a meeting at work, and the VP, of all people, today said the most inspirational thing I’ve heard in a really long time:

“Don’t let your future be defined by your past. Let it be defined by your intent, and by your dreams.”

Simple, trite, cliché… maybe in some ways. But honestly, it may be the key to everything I am battling.I can honestly say that most of the time, I define my future based upon my past and my present, which for me only undermines all the hopes I have in life. 

I may not be in the Promised Land yet, but for as many times as I have failed, and may stumble in the future, one day I'll make it. It will be awesome.

As dreamers do.

Today is interesting. I feel a changing. Like the first moments of a sunrise, where the horizon is only just the littlest bit orange on the edge, and you’re not sure when the sun will actually break through. This is not the same as the feeling has been in the past few months. In these silent months, I’ve been a ball of anxious feelings and failure, intending that every single Monday will be the first day of getting my life back on track, and getting my health in check. I think I’ve been so desperate to find my motivation again that I’ve been taking every inkling and trying to force it to be enough motivation to overhaul my life. The problem is, it hasn’t been enough to overcome excuses, doubt, fear, and self-directed criticisms.

I’ve been compulsively drawn back to when I first found my motivation—when I found Medifast, when I felt circumstances pointing me to success, and when I found a well of determination hiding in my heart. Why was that different than every preceding moment in my life, and different from every moment thereafter? If it was special favor from God, I’d have been better equipped to maintain my stamina. There is also the fact that God will always desire the best for and from us, and that doesn’t change—His desire for my success was no stronger then than it is now. So… what did I have, how did I lose it, and how do I get it back?

There is a dichotomy that I cannot resolve in looking back—part of the loss of footing was produced from a lowering of my expectations. When this all started, when my doctor looked me in the eye and told me that I could be as thin as I wanted to be (and I believed her), I envisioned an athlete at the end of the road. Strong, formidable, and even impressive. After traveling along, it changed to wanting to be average-sized. Then to wanting to just stop shopping at plus stores. Then to just wanting to feel less like a balloon, which is the least motivating goal a person could have. Simultaneously, though, I came slowly to a halt at my halfway mark—50 lbs. down, and 50 to go, and there hadn’t been enough visible change to make me happy. In 50 lbs., I had only lost about 2 dress sizes and that didn’t compute at all. The number on the scale went down, but the result of that was nowhere near the tangible evidence I expected. People say “I lost 35 lbs., and 5 dress sizes!” all the time. My goal actually felt further and further away, the closer I got to it. Or maybe at least more like a fairytale.

Setting goals is a little like setting expectations, it seems, and the experience of reaching that mile-marker was not anywhere near my expectations. But the ridiculous thing is that my response to this disillusionment was to fully derail and gain it all back, as if being halfway to my goal wasn’t at the very least better than being 0% of the way. I guess it just felt that the payoff wasn’t what I’d hoped for and I was incredibly disappointed and decided the fairytale was over.

I keep thinking “I should have been content with my half-success!” and I also keep thinking “what moderate, non-fanciful goal can I set for myself where I can be at least happier than I am now?” These seem like reasonable thoughts, but then I read this:

“Don't settle for being content. Push yourself! Yes, it's hard! No, it's not always fun! But it isn't impossible. Why not go a little further as to say, "I want to be someone I never thought was possible" and then set out and do it!”

This blog is amazing, and I highly recommend it. This girl really digs to the heart of things without over-thinking or over-stating (like yours truly does). To read more from her, Click Here.

More to the point—I think that was where the “magic” was. It was actually in believing the fairytale, because it is entirely possible, is mine for the wanting, and is at the end of the journey… somewhere. All I need do is to push past where I think I can go or deserve to get to, and just keep going. That athlete is waiting there, but all these other people are also waiting along the way—the me that doesn’t feel inflated an uncomfortable, the me that doesn’t need plus sized stores anymore, the me that feels more confident in pictures, the me that can borrow my mom’s clothes, the me that can lend clothes to friends, the me that wears 10 whole sizes fewer than I do right now are all mile markers of increasing “contentment” on the way to that athlete.

I’ve just finished re-reading my previous posts, and suffice it to say… I guess I’m just starting the same process all over again—I was so full of certainty! Hopefully I’ve learned enough about myself to build upon and make it further.

More to come!

 

Back at it

Well friends, it has been a weird few months of nutritional rebellion. To my shock and amazement I haven't gained back as much as I had thought I might have, but I certainly have added time to my journey. It is funny how much this is about truth and fulfillment and has such a deep reflection of the human journey for me. I grew weary of doing good because I wasn't getting anywhere with it. I felt that if making the right choices rendered no benefits then I could just cast off the restraint and end up with the same result-- more to the point, if skipping the donut had stopped helping me get what I wanted, then it was a double sacrifice. If I had the donut, then at least I had the donut.

A few times through these months I had the thought that my prodigal ways would need to end soon, but never could I say I was ready to get back to business. Even though I knew my first month back on track would render fantastic results. Even though I knew my sugary choices were the source of my general feeling of unwellness. Even though I knew what was driving me to my choices was really the root of sin and indulgence. Even though time after time, as it has my WHOLE life, giving in to the donut, the cookie, the cheesecake was never quite as amazing as I had hoped, and the pain of regret and disappointment in myself greater in portion than the joy of the moment. 

It is about truth because I knew this truth. I knew that all the hopes I would heap into my sinful lunch were false: that it would turn a bad day around, that it would change my outlook, that it would be a thrilling vacation from my lame situation. Deep down I knew that the truth was I'd be let down, that it wouldn't be as good as I'd hoped and even if it was, it wouldn't quite do the trick. 

It is about fulfillment because good food is wonderful but it is not fulfilling. And coming from me that is quite a statement. Few of you realize how much I adore good (really good) food. I read cook books. I have two magazine subscriptions for the tips and recipes. Im a snob, and will reject mediocre food, but when I'm  having a really killer cheesecake or a mind-blowing Alfredo or a steak that I will one day tell my grand kids about, I am in heaven. Literally I leave earth for a second. All of that to say, even amazingness of whatever it is, after the last bite I always feel a sense of "that was it?" It is like a roller coaster that is always too short, which makes you just want to get back in line. 

It is about the human journey because life is all about realizing how short lived the things of earth are, and the denial of self and of temporary happiness for future and lasting joy. In Christ, to take up our cross we have to first lay down our will. In family, we must set aside ourselves for the sake of the feelings, needs, and futures of those we love and for the good of the relationship. In life, we cannot expect to have enduring joy if instead we willingly place our hope and happiness in things that quickly let us down. 

Add to my weight gain the fact that I have basically felt like garbage for the past few months. Back pain, tiredness, sensitive emotions, reluctance to socialize, and many other things. I willingly endured these things, these avoidable issues, because I was afraid of taking discipline back on and missing out on the next good (no I'm not kidding) sweet treat or fun dinner or free lunch. I think of getting back on track and all the good that comes with that, but the first thing in my head are all the little things I have to give up. WHAT? It is like a "better the devil you know" argument in my mind, and I keep choosing wrong. It is the nutritional equivalent of living on credit and being in debt rather than saving up for the future. It is foolish. 

"No food tastes better than being thin feels" they say. I wouldn't know. I have never been thin as an adult. I don't know that I'll ever be "thin." But I know that it is worth the sacrifice, each time, to know I am going the right thing and choosing a higher path, and that in principle I'm making life decisions that follow what Christ would have me do. 

Seasons change and so do we

So, it has been a while and I blame school for that. Thankfully, that is now over and I’m moving to a new phase in my life. That sounds a lot more like I know what on earth I’m doing, but I do not. But for once I’m a little bit ok with that. Not a lot ok, but a little, and that is something. So, my news is that I’ve officially lost a total of 50 lbs since beginning my journey. In addition I’ve completed my Master’s degree, turned 30, and started escrow on my first home. November, needless to say, is a month of transition this year.

 

I’m most definitely not bragging, because every one of these things brings with it a scoop of uncertainty. So I’ve finished school: now what? I’m not even entirely sure what I’m qualified to do. So, I’ve lost half of my excess weight: now what? From this point it will take a different flavor of determination to get through the rest of the journey. So I’ve turned 30: so? What is the rest of my life going to be, now that I’m through the “prep” period of life and into the part where I’m supposed to be functioning based on that preparation? Our condo is in escrow: now what? I have no idea. The purchase process is a convoluted mystery.

 

The point is, these aren’t necessarily accomplishments, but turning points. I feel like I’ve been walking a steep mountain path and have just crested the hill and yet still cannot see what lies ahead for the trees and the fog. For all I know it could be more mountain. Where am I going? I don’t know—honestly I’m not even sure what I want the rest of this to look like. I know I’m tired of struggling, and have a lot of fears about the future and what it could hold. I need to pray for God to provide me a new job and a new passion for what I do with my day. I know we aren’t supposed to find fulfillment on earth, but I need to sense that I’m contributing in a way that uses what I am good at and what brings me joy.

 

Weight-loss-wise, I’m at an interesting place. I do not by any means feel skinny, and I still see all my faults when I look in the mirror, but I have reached a point where I am not afraid of cameras, and I can have a happy and relaxed conversation without worrying if the other person thinks I’m disgusting. I also don’t wonder why on earth they are talking to me as I conjure up a negative image of myself while I talk to them. That is pretty major. I have a general sense of normalcy, and am relaxed and at home in my own skin. That is a huge deal for me. I don’t constantly tug at my shirts and hide behind things like I once did. I don’t avoid occasions because I don’t know what to wear. I also feel like I see a genuine beauty in people that I didn’t see before—at least not very often. I feel like my personal space bubble is a little bigger and not just because I fill 50 lbs less of it.

 

I like how things are going so far with my 30’s, though I’ve only been here for a few days. There is more change to come, with work and moving and all, and I’m confident they are all good changes. Here’s to my next 30.

 

 

Quick

Blogging from your phone is never advisable and yet here I am. I wish I had an update :( unfortunately I don't have a lot to say. Life stress is getting to me and taking all my time. Still plugging away. Down 47 lbs. woohoo!

Follow up...

Entry One:

Things I want, and will have:

 

·         A single-digit dress size

·         To buy whatever tall boots I want

·         To be able to buy things from the clearance rack

·         To be picked up by my strong and handsome husband

·         To ride in the back of the car with 2 other people

·         To look in the mirror to check my outfit on its own merit

·         Do dance and feel talented

·         To laugh without reservation

 

Entry two:

Update.

 

Last week was pretty low—and for some good reasons. I had avoided posting for a while because I didn’t feel like I had anything helpful to say due to how my weeks had been going (in life and in nutrition), but I decided that the point of the blog is to take you with me through the process. and sometimes the process is kinda rough. Everything in that entry was as transparent as possible, because my mission here is to be completely transparent so that anyone out there who needs to hear that they aren’t the only one who feels the way they feel hears it all. I once read a blog, and have since re-read it, of a girl who did the same thing. She is forthright with all her pain and frustration, and to the point of discomfort at some points. It makes me cry tears of connection and relief every time I read it because her words give voice to my own struggles. I want to contribute in the same way.

 

So that is why I don’t withhold a whole lot when it comes to my doubts. To be too positive, to me, is dishonest, because 90% of the battle is against doubt and fear. It wasn’t that doubt was winning last week—I think I just hit a crucial turning point. I was going to get to that place sooner or later, because the challenge is not to avoid reaching those moments… the challenge is to keep going after your get to them. I’m sure I’ll hit more turning points along the way. Or, better said, turn-back points. I faltered. I sat down in the middle of the road for a bit. I stared indecisively at the road signs for a while. But I didn’t turn back, because I already said my goodbyes to what is behind me.

 

In any case, God made sure to send encouragement to me at my lowest point, and I’m pulling out of that funk now. I’ve got more to look forward to, and I’ve got good things going on. Some of the encouragements were very specific! Just at the moment where I was gathering up my resolve, I got an email from my coach about a big contest with other coaches/clients over the next 2 months. There are big prizes at the end, and darnit if money isn’t a good motivator!

So things are better now. I’m back on the path, and I’m heading in the right direction. That’s really all I can do for now!

 

Here’s the blog I referenced:http://www.canyoustayfordinner.com/weight-loss/

 

Trying to keep it real...

Sorry if this one is kind of a drag, and a little scattered.

Contrary to what you might think, this doesn’t happen very often: I’m beginning this blog post having no idea what I want to say. I’m a little lost at the moment, and I’m not sure what to do about it. I feel like I’ve lost sight of my goal a little bit, and have reverted to feeling like “being thin” is a goal that just isn’t in the stars for me. Much of my original propulsion came from inarguable success. And then the results slowed down, and I thought “that’s ok, as long as it continues, slow is still good!” and then it slowed more and is at almost a stop. I’m looking around, with all these nagging doubts are still in my head, and I wonder if and when they’ll ever quitetdown. I think I’ve reached the point in a long-term diet where the chronic dieter becomes so stuck. It’s like the edge of a cliff, and you know it’s there somewhere, and you run so free and fast up to it, but you reach this ledge and screech to a halt. I’ve been to this ledge before, and I know it well. It is as far as a diet has ever taken me, and gazing over the edge I have no idea if I can go any further, simply because I never have. It’s like in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade with the leap of faith bridge. It might not be there, and I may end up crushed at my own failure. I may be kidding myself that I’ll look good in a size medium one day. I may be a fool for thinking I’ll ever be anything but a disappointment to myself.

Because, you see, to those who compliment me on my success, I am “thinnER.” But I don’t want that. I don’t want to be slightly less enormous. I don’t want to work this hard and go without this much, and still hate my fat neck and my cheesy knees, and my bulky arms. It wouldn’t be fair! But I am terrified that I’m pushing against a giant rock, here, and that I’ll throw more effort and anxiety into this thing and never get further than I’ve gotten. Just because other people have moved their rock, and just because it is possible that the rock is movable, doesn’t mean it actually will move.

I’ve also just come out of a really rough week, the details of which I’ll leave alone, but suffice it to say it was one thing after another. It was like a battle and it caused a great deal of anxiety. It was physically painful, and there were several times when I failed at keeping to my nutritional plan because I frankly didn’t feel like coming home to a dinner that wasn’t something I could look forward to. When I felt beat up every day, there wasn’t much that was inviting about dry chicken and a salad… again. But then the food guilt always settles in! and I’m sure I’ve gained some hard-fought pounds back, and I’m sure I’ve wasted a month of results… and that isn’t fair either, by the way. Little skinny girls run around eating whatever the heck they want, whenever, and not having any idea how much their burger patty weighs or how many carbs are in lettuce, and have no problem at all—no guilt and no consequences. I get both, in heaping, steaming, stinking spoonfulls.

Every diet I’ve ever done is like the movie Groundhog Day, and I’m Bill Murray destined to live the same thing over and over til I get it right. But just like poor Bill wandering the streets of Punxsutawney, I may know what is wrong but I don’t know how to get it right and still maintain my sanity.

And I keep thinking of how much I should have lost by now, and how I hadn’t planned on still being in weight loss mode during the holidays, and what a food-guilt-ridden misery that could end up being (more thoughts on that in another post). I’ve lost 35 pounds so far, in total. Remember how I had lost 33 when I started this blog out in the first place? Yeah, that is where I am right now—extreme disappointment mode. Not in the diet and not in the plan, but in myself. I feel broken and pathetic.

And all my encouragers out there are going to say “35 is so good!” but with a net of 2 pounds since I began this blog, I can’t really be happy with that. I should be at 50 by now.

I began with such fervor because I had marked out the finish line, but I’ve moved and moved that line so many times to accommodate my lagging results that I don’t even know where I left it last. So here is the hard part—every time I’ve started a diet and gotten to this crisis point I’ve given up entirely, because it is easy to start a new thing after you fail, but it is very difficult to go back to the status quo that existed before the failing. It is as hard as running, and then tripping on something, and then getting your balance back and keeping on with the race, rather than tripping, falling, nursing your wounds, and starting over. I know the plan works, and I know it has worked for me, and I have to decide if I’m strong enough to regain my balance without faltering.

I almost feel like I’m facing the same doubts as when I first began—the fear of wasted effort and of making a fool of myself for betting so publically on my own success. The doubt that there is a skinner girl inside of here. The doubt that I’ll ever wear that Pinterest wardrobe I’ve built. The fear of being huge forever no matter what I do. The fear of being just as unsatisfied with my skinny self. It all haunts me continually, and the only thing that can lift it is to prove it all wrong.