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.

Looking forward

Things I'm looking forward to: 

1) living out all the lives I  have passed by. Part of the fashion part of my future life is that I've had I just let go of many trends that came through that I really liked because they didn't play out on me. I didn't get to be that person, live that life, be truly me at that moment because a look didn't have the same effect on me. Sloppy casual cute just looked frumpy. Sharp looked old. Baggy just looked baggy. Flowey and drapey looked like I was covering up. Athletic looked like I gave up. I thought if this as I looked at a cute pair of moccasins and realized I've never bought them because the way I am and was, I felt like I looked like a crazy old cat lady in house slippers. It will be nice to give them a try and feel like they make sense on me! That will apply to lots and lots if things. I will do-over all the things I let get by me, all the lives I abandoned without even trying them, all the people I could have been. 

2) feeling truly accomplished. 

3) no more food guilt. 

4) not hiding anymore. 

Speaking Metaphorically

Some images that came to mind through my first few weeks of this grand adventure that I really feel apply:

The elephant in the room

I had been living a pretty healthy lifestyle for quite a bit. I had been researching and applying a lot of sound nutritional wisdom, including some elements of the paleo diet, the health benefits of raw whole milk, chia seeds, egg yolks, and all of the other foods that can supply an intense wealth of nutritional value and health benefits that have shown their proof through generations. I’ve read books on how grass fed butter can cure diseases, and how important many real, honest foods are for the body. I grew to realize the soy was not good for fertility and hormonal imbalance, packaged foods were not a dependable source of nutrients, and that food is work. I was not, however, losing weight while on this health kick.

I still believe my understanding is sound, and I will one day live in that fashion. But I came to realize that there was a different issue at hand—I was on the wrong side of the battle to be eating a diet that would maintain and restore health in such a way.

I realized that my weight was like an elephant in a room, and that this healthy living I was doing was like the epic and laborious act of scooping the elephant’s poop. It was hard work, and the poop was everywhere. What I realized, too, was that I was doing so with the elephant still in the room, and as he stood there he kept on pooping. I was perpetuating the problem that I was eternally cleaning up after. The decision I came to was that I needed to first remove the elephant, and then go about the task of scooping. Medifast is my lead rope, escorting the elephant out of the room, which will then leave me free to clean the room under circumstances that will actually produce a fairly clean room.

 

Turn Around

I was told by my doctor that likely what has caused such a difficult and life-long battle with weight was a high carbohydrate percentage to my diet over my lifetime. Truly, the low-fat diet had always been the ideal I was told over and over again by popular nutrition (case in point, everyone thinks “fat-free” on the label of a food translates to healthy… uh, wrong!). I remembered Healthy Choice snacks, Nutrigrain Bars, Non-fat milk, Fig Newtons, and Snackwells. The green box means it is a diet food! No.

The thing is, I had turned my body into a machine that thought it was supposed to run on carbs, but at the same time it had no idea how to do so. I was barreling down the freeway at full speed on the wrong fuel, and in fact it was running backwards: storing fat and processing carbs, and ever-growing in the process. My doctor warned me that ending this cycle would be hard, and would put me out of commission for a week or so. I had no idea that she would be so right. I felt almost medicated for about a week, I was so exhausted. It was because my body, looking for carbs and simple sugars, thought it was starving. Believing that I could flip the switch on such a metabolism, and instantly feeling good on a diet my body didn’t know, was a dream—it was about as realistic as taking that truck that is barreling down the freeway and popping it into reverse and not expecting a huge problem. I had to bring my backward metabolism to a full and complete stop and then start in the other direction.

It was a long week, but eventually I got up to speed going the right way on the right road, and now I feel fine most of the time.

  

4 related metaphores

Those couple of weeks before the diet adventure actually took off, I did what I called a “farewell tour of food.” It was not indulgent or stupid, and as bad as it sounds now by the way I just said it, it wasn’t about the food or having to wrench it from my sad, desperate fingers. It was about facing it, realizing that for all its merits it wasn’t that great, and parting ways. This brought out four images:

 

Rented SuitThat morning that I woke up and felt as though I’d gained weight overnight, as I looked in the mirror I felt like I wasn’t even looking at my body anymore. Like I said, I felt like I was suddenly rejecting it, and refusing to be that person anymore. It was like I was wearing someone else’s clothes, or a rented suit that was never mine. I felt like it didn’t quite fit, and that I needed to turn it back in. 

I QuitEvery time I thought about what I was about to begin, I felt as if I had put in my 2 week’s notice at a job I never liked but had been doing for a long time. As I’d get my plus size clothes out of the closet, and zip on my jeans that were just a bit too tight, or think about the life I’d been living, I felt the same as if I’d just decided to quit a dead end job and move on. Every thought was a farewell, and every meal was a strange goodbye. It was like I didn’t belong there any more, I didn’t really serve a function in the office because my replacement had already started, and I was just going through the motions until my last paycheck was handed to me, and I took the box from my desk and left.

Moving OutThrough the first few weeks, and even now, I also felt like I was moving out of a crappy apartment. I didn’t mind that I didn’t like it anymore, because I didn’t have to stay. I didn’t mind that it was the wrong size, wasn’t presentable for guests, or didn’t have any meaning to me anymore, because I was packing and leaving. I didn’t have to care about the bad paint choice in the living room, or that the bathroom door stuck, or that the kitchen faucet leaked anymore, because I wouldn’t be around to have to fix it. I was moving out and on and up. Suddenly when I see myself in pictures, it doesn’t bother me anymore because I know 2 things: a) since whatever picture I was looking at was taken, I had already lost weight, and it was no longer a picture of me, but of the me I’d left behind, and b) it was a picture of a person I’d never be again, and I didn’t have to own her anymore.

Breaking up
Lastly, after my first week of dieting came my mother’s birthday at Extraordinary Desserts—OMG. What bad planning—I actually thought “why did I start my diet this week??” because I knew that I would not be able to, or want to, cheat. I told my doctor that what stressed me was that my farewell tour of food had felt like I had broken up with unwise eating, and now I was going to have to see him for the first time at a party, and it was going to be super awkward. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t let him see you uncomfortable. Don’t look like you’re having too much fun or he’ll know you’re faking. Don’t talk to me… pleeeasssse don’t pretend we are still friends, and for heaven’s sake no one make me join a conversation he’s a part of. Inevitably, though, you always have to face them eventually, and if you handle it with grace and don’t take it too personally, it ends well enough, and it is easier the next time.



All in all, my reflections helped me really encapsulate experience and make it more tangible, and much easier to handle in general. I hope you found something here that has meaning for you!