The therapist asked me as part of our "getting to know me" survey how I felt about my body. I didn't even blink when I said, "Hate it."
She asked what my eating habits were. I said, "Out of control"
I stopped myself from getting a Hostess Cupcake out of the vending machine the other day because I went to the bathroom first and saw myself in the mirror.
I thought, I should only ever eat in front of a mirror.
I know it's not the food. I know that it's me and my brokenness. I'm finding this body image/weight thing is far more of a spiritual issue than anything else.
But still I eat. I eat when I'm hungry, I eat when I'm bored, I eat because there's food in front of me or when it's time to eat. I eat when other people eat, I eat in secret in my car and when I'm home alone.
If my body is supposed to be a temple then my body is in serious disrepair.
I mean, it's not a new issue. But it's a huge issue, because I feel huge.
There is shame attached to almost every aspect of my physical life and I just can't shake it. I feel isolated and alone in it. It's made worse when well intended loving people try to talk to me about it. Because while I might be a little sniffly but mostly calm on the outside inside I'm running around in circles desperately looking for a way out of this conversation. Instead of hearing the words "I love you and want you around for a long time" I'm hearing the words, "You're disgusting. I can't even look at you. How could you be so hideous and repulsive"
I can't even hear you anymore those words get so big and loud in my head.
I'm slowly but surely removing myself from video and photographic history because of how much I hate my body...then to add salt to an already seeping wound I feel so left out and invisible because I"m not in videos or pictures. Sometimes I feel like I just can't win.
It's a confusing hot mess in my head and heart right now and I feel all jumpy and exposed. I'm tired so easily because it is taking a lot of energy to stretch towards mental and physical health when I've had 31 1/2 years to learn thought and behavior patterns that are trying to kill me (melodrama much?).
It's definitely one of the things on the therapy docket, because I am clearly not able to take care of this by myself.
Now...where did I put that pizza?
Showing posts with label Melodramatic weightloss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Melodramatic weightloss. Show all posts
2.25.2011
9.21.2010
Hungry
I've been very hungry lately. But nothing sounds appetizing.
I hate when I get in food funks like that. You'd think it would be a good thing because I would eat less.
Yet I eat out of habit, because it's time to eat, not because I'm hungry.
My trainer yelled at me once because I wasn't eating enough. He said my body wouldn't burn the calories if it didn't have the energy to burn them.
I responded by telling him that I just wasn't hungry, so I wasn't eating.
He said that I should eat whether I'm hungry or not, which seems completely against everything I thought.
But he said that my body needs to re-learn how to use food as fuel. I eat to much of the wrong things and to little of the right things.
I've been hacking away at this melodramatic weightloss for over a year now and I still can't get it right.
It's still just such a reminder to me that all of these weight/food/body image things I'm working through are rooted in such deep emotional and physical cement.
I prune and prune back these branches and try to cleanse myself of these habits, thoughts and behaviors that got me to where I am now.
I need to spend more time hacking away at the roots, because the roots are just sprouting new branches as quickly as I'm hacking back the old.
I hate when I get in food funks like that. You'd think it would be a good thing because I would eat less.
Yet I eat out of habit, because it's time to eat, not because I'm hungry.
My trainer yelled at me once because I wasn't eating enough. He said my body wouldn't burn the calories if it didn't have the energy to burn them.
I responded by telling him that I just wasn't hungry, so I wasn't eating.
He said that I should eat whether I'm hungry or not, which seems completely against everything I thought.
But he said that my body needs to re-learn how to use food as fuel. I eat to much of the wrong things and to little of the right things.
I've been hacking away at this melodramatic weightloss for over a year now and I still can't get it right.
It's still just such a reminder to me that all of these weight/food/body image things I'm working through are rooted in such deep emotional and physical cement.
I prune and prune back these branches and try to cleanse myself of these habits, thoughts and behaviors that got me to where I am now.
I need to spend more time hacking away at the roots, because the roots are just sprouting new branches as quickly as I'm hacking back the old.
7.12.2010
Light
One of the scenes I remember best from the Chronicles of Narnia book Voyage of the Dawn Treader (at least I'm 99% sure that's where it's from) is a scene of total darkness.
I remember reading it and thinking how much like that I can be.
The ship had been sailing along in bright daylight until all of the sudden it was dark. Pitch black and completely void of light.
I don't know if they talk about it in the book or not, they're on my re-read list I just don't currently own them, but I remember thinking how one could realize they are in the dark without the light. I thought, how do you know how dark it truly is until you start seeing the first flashes of light?
Over two years ago I was told I had F.D.. Fat Disease for those of you that weren't around back then. I've made strides forward and have leapt backwards trying to become less of a Bethany than I am right now (physically I mean). It has been really hard. Harder than I was prepared for it to be. I've found new depths to the darkness that I would have sworn to you didn't exist.
I've also found that having semi-regular levels of estrogen in my body makes me more than a little crazy.
I don't like looking/feeling silly. I am a mocker. I'm trying to stop, or at least slow down. Because I know that if I do it so do other people. So I get this inflated sense of self and think that others are staring at me and mocking me. Especially when I work out and am all sweaty, grunty (is so a word), and red in the face from the exertion. So sometimes, I really have to psych myself up to even pull on workout clothes, or even pack them for the evening because I have already thought up the jokes people will tell at my expense. Sometimes I would rather slowly kill myself then risk looking silly to people whose names I don't even know.
I've found that as my estrogen levels out and my body starts acting like a woman's body should act (sorry boys) I get crazy. If I don't pay attention to when it's happening I get so dark and hopeless. I can't see the end, I think the light has been extinguished forever. Crazy scary things run through my head and I can see no reason. Until suddenly a light bulb comes on and then I'm just left feeling foolish for forgetting about the light.
I don't like that it's hard. Because it's hard. It's so hard and I'm so lazy when it comes to my own self care. If you need something, I'll hop to it. Need a favor? I'm your girl. But I'm finding out just how little I think of myself. I'm finding out just how little I value my life at all and it is really scary sometimes. Because, when you don't value the life of something you squash it more often than not.
Because the thing is, until I allowed the slightest crack in the wall there was no light in those and many more places. Now I understand the theology of Jesus being there and that God is everywhere and sees everything. I get that in my head. But just like when I used to keep Jesus in the closet hidden away, I pretend it doesn't matter, that these deep and dark things were just between me and my shadow.
So when I started to let the light of the freakin WORLD into this darkness it was almost blinding.
Sometimes I wonder, if I'm plumbing it to deep. If I'm focusing on the dark to much. But other times I feel like it will envelop me and take my life if I don't resolve it.
But then I think back, to before I knew Jesus. I think back to before I was going to a church of people I loved so deeply and before I was (however sporadically or begrudgingly) chatting with God. I think back to the bottles of liquid and bottles of pills. I think about the boys and the razors, I think about the oncoming traffic and how I tried to figure out how to make a noose.
I think about how it was so dark. It was so so dark.
And I didn't even know it.
So it is hard. It is hard and disconnected and contradictory (just like this post). It's melodramatic and silly and motivating and paralyzing.
But I know there is light. Even if I can't quite see it yet. Even if I don't know which way to look for it I know that it's there and I just hold on to that. Because now that I know the light exists, what else is there to do but keep reaching towards it; even if I feel like I'm reaching blindly in the middle of a very deep dark.
I remember reading it and thinking how much like that I can be.
The ship had been sailing along in bright daylight until all of the sudden it was dark. Pitch black and completely void of light.
I don't know if they talk about it in the book or not, they're on my re-read list I just don't currently own them, but I remember thinking how one could realize they are in the dark without the light. I thought, how do you know how dark it truly is until you start seeing the first flashes of light?
Over two years ago I was told I had F.D.. Fat Disease for those of you that weren't around back then. I've made strides forward and have leapt backwards trying to become less of a Bethany than I am right now (physically I mean). It has been really hard. Harder than I was prepared for it to be. I've found new depths to the darkness that I would have sworn to you didn't exist.
I've also found that having semi-regular levels of estrogen in my body makes me more than a little crazy.
I don't like looking/feeling silly. I am a mocker. I'm trying to stop, or at least slow down. Because I know that if I do it so do other people. So I get this inflated sense of self and think that others are staring at me and mocking me. Especially when I work out and am all sweaty, grunty (is so a word), and red in the face from the exertion. So sometimes, I really have to psych myself up to even pull on workout clothes, or even pack them for the evening because I have already thought up the jokes people will tell at my expense. Sometimes I would rather slowly kill myself then risk looking silly to people whose names I don't even know.
I've found that as my estrogen levels out and my body starts acting like a woman's body should act (sorry boys) I get crazy. If I don't pay attention to when it's happening I get so dark and hopeless. I can't see the end, I think the light has been extinguished forever. Crazy scary things run through my head and I can see no reason. Until suddenly a light bulb comes on and then I'm just left feeling foolish for forgetting about the light.
I don't like that it's hard. Because it's hard. It's so hard and I'm so lazy when it comes to my own self care. If you need something, I'll hop to it. Need a favor? I'm your girl. But I'm finding out just how little I think of myself. I'm finding out just how little I value my life at all and it is really scary sometimes. Because, when you don't value the life of something you squash it more often than not.
Because the thing is, until I allowed the slightest crack in the wall there was no light in those and many more places. Now I understand the theology of Jesus being there and that God is everywhere and sees everything. I get that in my head. But just like when I used to keep Jesus in the closet hidden away, I pretend it doesn't matter, that these deep and dark things were just between me and my shadow.
So when I started to let the light of the freakin WORLD into this darkness it was almost blinding.
Sometimes I wonder, if I'm plumbing it to deep. If I'm focusing on the dark to much. But other times I feel like it will envelop me and take my life if I don't resolve it.
But then I think back, to before I knew Jesus. I think back to before I was going to a church of people I loved so deeply and before I was (however sporadically or begrudgingly) chatting with God. I think back to the bottles of liquid and bottles of pills. I think about the boys and the razors, I think about the oncoming traffic and how I tried to figure out how to make a noose.
I think about how it was so dark. It was so so dark.
And I didn't even know it.
So it is hard. It is hard and disconnected and contradictory (just like this post). It's melodramatic and silly and motivating and paralyzing.
But I know there is light. Even if I can't quite see it yet. Even if I don't know which way to look for it I know that it's there and I just hold on to that. Because now that I know the light exists, what else is there to do but keep reaching towards it; even if I feel like I'm reaching blindly in the middle of a very deep dark.
4.04.2010
Posture
I've re-upped my melodramatic journey of weight loss. I've decided that I am just going to have to remember that it is important to remember that taking time for myself to get healthy is important and no one ever died from me being 10 minutes late (yet).
This weekend I'm going to talk to Dad about the schedule of jobs around my house and put my foot down. I'm so afraid sometimes of disappointing him by not doing what he thinks is right that I do things that I don't think are right to do. Not anything dramatic, I mean like spend my money on things I don't really think it needs to be spent on type of things.
I have a list of things I want to accomplish around my house in the next year and that's just what's going to happen. Now I just have to say that to him...
But I digress....where was I going with this....oh, right.
I'm also going to go to the gym 3 times a week. Even if it's only for 30 minutes I'm going 3 times a week. I'm going to Mexico in June on a mission trip and I want and need to be in better shape for that trip. I went Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday this week and I'm working on when I'm going next week. But again, I digress...hmmm....oh!
I was working out with FT at the gym Tuesday and I was doing these bicep curl thingys at a machine. I had to stand in front of it, feet together, bend at the waist, arch my back, pop my butt out, keep my chin up and then pull on the bar thingy to do the curls,...or pushes I don't know I was pulling it down, whatever.
Frankly, that was a lot of anatomical multi-tasking for me. I just giggled and tried to be all casual about it but FT called me on it and we started talking about my posture. He told me to use my butt more, so naturally I just clenched my butt. (I feel like I've blogged about my butt clenches before...but I can't find the post. Which means I might write one soon, aren't you lucky!)
FT just cracked up and asked me why I was so tightly clenched. He told me to pop my butt out and put my shoulders down and keep my chin up. I've been walking around work trying to figure out how to do that and realizing more and more that my old posture is one of curled in, shielding my center.
I usually walk with my chin slightly lowered, or my head down altogether. My shoulders are rolled forward and my butt is clenched inward. I was talking to someone at work about this new posture and I got a clear idea in my head that the way I usually walk around is in a semi 'C' position. Curled in, protecting my heart and ready to fight.
The new position leaves me open, shoulders back and down, chest and stomach jutting out slightly to lead the way and chin up with me facing the world as I walk into it.
I feel unsafe with the new posture. It's open, exposed, awkward to me because I'm not used to it. I feel like at any moment I could take a knife to the chest, metaphorically or otherwise. The thing is, it's not safe. It's not safe to walk into the world open and exposed like that. It's much safer in the short term to be closed off and inaccessible to everyone.
But in the long run, it's very unsafe to be that closed off. Life is better when other people are let in, even when it means they can hurt you. Life is just more when you look the world in the eyes and know that you'll be ok no matter what happens. Now if only I could convince my slumping posture self of that.
I'm becoming a little stiff trying to figure out this new posture. It's not natural, but it will be good for me in the long run. It will help my muscles as they develop and it will strengthen my abs instead of helping them atrophy between workouts.
It will just take practice.
This weekend I'm going to talk to Dad about the schedule of jobs around my house and put my foot down. I'm so afraid sometimes of disappointing him by not doing what he thinks is right that I do things that I don't think are right to do. Not anything dramatic, I mean like spend my money on things I don't really think it needs to be spent on type of things.
I have a list of things I want to accomplish around my house in the next year and that's just what's going to happen. Now I just have to say that to him...
But I digress....where was I going with this....oh, right.
I'm also going to go to the gym 3 times a week. Even if it's only for 30 minutes I'm going 3 times a week. I'm going to Mexico in June on a mission trip and I want and need to be in better shape for that trip. I went Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday this week and I'm working on when I'm going next week. But again, I digress...hmmm....oh!
I was working out with FT at the gym Tuesday and I was doing these bicep curl thingys at a machine. I had to stand in front of it, feet together, bend at the waist, arch my back, pop my butt out, keep my chin up and then pull on the bar thingy to do the curls,...or pushes I don't know I was pulling it down, whatever.
Frankly, that was a lot of anatomical multi-tasking for me. I just giggled and tried to be all casual about it but FT called me on it and we started talking about my posture. He told me to use my butt more, so naturally I just clenched my butt. (I feel like I've blogged about my butt clenches before...but I can't find the post. Which means I might write one soon, aren't you lucky!)
FT just cracked up and asked me why I was so tightly clenched. He told me to pop my butt out and put my shoulders down and keep my chin up. I've been walking around work trying to figure out how to do that and realizing more and more that my old posture is one of curled in, shielding my center.
I usually walk with my chin slightly lowered, or my head down altogether. My shoulders are rolled forward and my butt is clenched inward. I was talking to someone at work about this new posture and I got a clear idea in my head that the way I usually walk around is in a semi 'C' position. Curled in, protecting my heart and ready to fight.
The new position leaves me open, shoulders back and down, chest and stomach jutting out slightly to lead the way and chin up with me facing the world as I walk into it.
I feel unsafe with the new posture. It's open, exposed, awkward to me because I'm not used to it. I feel like at any moment I could take a knife to the chest, metaphorically or otherwise. The thing is, it's not safe. It's not safe to walk into the world open and exposed like that. It's much safer in the short term to be closed off and inaccessible to everyone.
But in the long run, it's very unsafe to be that closed off. Life is better when other people are let in, even when it means they can hurt you. Life is just more when you look the world in the eyes and know that you'll be ok no matter what happens. Now if only I could convince my slumping posture self of that.
I'm becoming a little stiff trying to figure out this new posture. It's not natural, but it will be good for me in the long run. It will help my muscles as they develop and it will strengthen my abs instead of helping them atrophy between workouts.
It will just take practice.
1.12.2010
Down
Holy.Freaking.Hell
I started being intentional about my weight loss a few months ago. I lost 10 pounds almost right away and then nothing. I was losing inches because my pants were getting bigger but the scale wasn't moving.
Then tonight. I weighed in before my first workout with FT in 3 weeks (after which I puked and couldn't even drive for awhile) and was down SEVEN pounds. SEVEN. Since before Christmas. Which means I was losing weight OVER THE HOLIDAYS.
Holy.Freaking.Hell.
So encouraging.
In summary, I have lost 17lbs since October. Only 80lbs to go!
I started being intentional about my weight loss a few months ago. I lost 10 pounds almost right away and then nothing. I was losing inches because my pants were getting bigger but the scale wasn't moving.
Then tonight. I weighed in before my first workout with FT in 3 weeks (after which I puked and couldn't even drive for awhile) and was down SEVEN pounds. SEVEN. Since before Christmas. Which means I was losing weight OVER THE HOLIDAYS.
Holy.Freaking.Hell.
So encouraging.
In summary, I have lost 17lbs since October. Only 80lbs to go!
12.28.2009
The Once Over
Almost two weeks ago I was at the gym working out with Funny Trainer (FT). He gets that name because he is funny. Most of the time I'm working out with him I have either a stupid grin on my face or a scowl (because he's mean and makes me super exert myself).
We were towards the end of our session and he was having me do these calf push up things. I'm standing on the ball of my left foot, with my right foot hooked behind my ankle and I'm raising myself up and down. FT says something stupid and I laugh.
Then I see him. HT. Walking towards us.
But I can't stop smiling. I keep thinking about the stupid thing that FT said and how it's funny. I think about how hot HT is. I think about how I would give almost anything to amputate my left calf at this moment in time because it flippin burns!
HT asks FT a question, I choose this moment to give HT the once over. Because....well....because he's HOT people. He is HOT.
Picture it, me in all my sweaty not in shape glory bobbing up and down on one foot with a big stupid grin on my face oogling HT.
As my eyes traveled back up to his face (his very cute face) I notice that his eyes are on mine. He smiles a funny little smile and says, "Well hello Bethany."
I immediately avert my eyes and begin desperately searching the ground around my little torture device (also known as exercise machine) for some sort of hole to disappeer into. FT whips around and rolls his eyes at me and says, "Love you, bye" (which is oddly what he says at the end of every session...)
I gratefully sprint into the womens locker room and slink out to my car.
As I'm sitting in the car waiting to regain feeling in my calves it hits me.
HT remembered my name.
Oh.My.Gosh.
I think that means we're getting married next weekend. Hope you can all make it!
We were towards the end of our session and he was having me do these calf push up things. I'm standing on the ball of my left foot, with my right foot hooked behind my ankle and I'm raising myself up and down. FT says something stupid and I laugh.
Then I see him. HT. Walking towards us.
But I can't stop smiling. I keep thinking about the stupid thing that FT said and how it's funny. I think about how hot HT is. I think about how I would give almost anything to amputate my left calf at this moment in time because it flippin burns!
HT asks FT a question, I choose this moment to give HT the once over. Because....well....because he's HOT people. He is HOT.
Picture it, me in all my sweaty not in shape glory bobbing up and down on one foot with a big stupid grin on my face oogling HT.
As my eyes traveled back up to his face (his very cute face) I notice that his eyes are on mine. He smiles a funny little smile and says, "Well hello Bethany."
I immediately avert my eyes and begin desperately searching the ground around my little torture device (also known as exercise machine) for some sort of hole to disappeer into. FT whips around and rolls his eyes at me and says, "Love you, bye" (which is oddly what he says at the end of every session...)
I gratefully sprint into the womens locker room and slink out to my car.
As I'm sitting in the car waiting to regain feeling in my calves it hits me.
HT remembered my name.
Oh.My.Gosh.
I think that means we're getting married next weekend. Hope you can all make it!
11.23.2009
Worthy
I was thinking through the discouragement I wrote about yesterday and wondering what exactly I can do to make more room for working out in my life. My life is pretty full and I quickly because overwhelmed.
I wanted to quit; to admit that it was ridiculous this idea of getting in shape and becoming more physically powerful. There were much more important things to do. Things like family night, Washington Project stuff, making money to pay my mortgage stuff.
Here's my typical week:
Sunday: Washington Project and church in the morning. Working in the yard or inside the house, laundry, baking, cooking, possibly working out and hopefully a nap
Monday: Work 8-5. Drive about 45 minutes in traffic, then depending on the day I have either a WP life group, a 2nd life group, a meeting with Michelle to plan for WP or working out (working out being the exception instead of the rule) Those meetings whatever they may be end about 930-10pm
Tuesday: Work 8-5, 45 minutes in traffic, workout with trainer for 30 minutes, cardio 30 minutes then attempt to cook dinner or just not puke depending on the workout
Wednesday: Work 8-5, 45 minutes in traffic, dinner with Diane before bible study at her house, bible study until 930ish.
Thursday: Work 8-5, 45 minutes in traffic, family night at my sisters house until 9ish
Friday: Work 8-5, 45 minutes in traffic, depending on the night work at the bookstore or workout (most likely the bookstore)
Saturday: Occasionally work at the bookstore, work in the yard or inside the house, bake, cook, laundry, run errands with Sharen, maybe work out/hang out with friends
The trainer said I needed to have at least 4-5 days of cardio and 3-5 days of strength training to make a dent in what I want to do. When exactly am I supposed to do that!? I could do it in the morning but I hate (HATE) showering in public showers. I come out feeling dirtier than when I came in, and I can't/won't go to work all sweaty.
So I'm laying in bed, twirling my hair and thinking about what to do. I could get up at 5am, go to the closest gym to my house and work out for 30-45 minutes and still have time to come home and shower at my house before leaving (on time) for work.
But it's to early, to hard, to much, to inconvenient, I'm not a morning person blah blah blah.
Then it occurred to me. For a year I used to get up at 5am every Monday and Wednesday to serve breakfast to the homeless community. I had very few problems getting up and showered and making the trek to Over The Rhine to do that.
Why?
Why wasn't it to early, to hard, to much, to inconvenient? Why was I a morning person during that year?
Because it wasn't about me. It wasn't a sacrifice for only me. I was serving them. They were worthy and deserving of my time, my energy, my inconvenience.
I realized with a start that I didn't believe that I was worth the sacrifice. I wasn't worth the effort. I didn't deserve it.
On one hand I know that it's not true, but I don't believe it.
I think about the words he spoke that day saying that I deserved to be healthy and I deserved to be in shape. I remember dismissing him and thinking how silly it was that he thought I didn't know that, because I knew it.
I don't, but I'm trying to learn. Because as silly and trite as it sounds God has requested that I get this body of mine under control and that guy just doesn't let up.
So if I'm a little crankier than normal it's probably because I was up at 5am working out. Now I just need to actually do it....
Posts that may only be slightly related:
Fragile
Knowing but not Believing
Stiff
I wanted to quit; to admit that it was ridiculous this idea of getting in shape and becoming more physically powerful. There were much more important things to do. Things like family night, Washington Project stuff, making money to pay my mortgage stuff.
Here's my typical week:
Sunday: Washington Project and church in the morning. Working in the yard or inside the house, laundry, baking, cooking, possibly working out and hopefully a nap
Monday: Work 8-5. Drive about 45 minutes in traffic, then depending on the day I have either a WP life group, a 2nd life group, a meeting with Michelle to plan for WP or working out (working out being the exception instead of the rule) Those meetings whatever they may be end about 930-10pm
Tuesday: Work 8-5, 45 minutes in traffic, workout with trainer for 30 minutes, cardio 30 minutes then attempt to cook dinner or just not puke depending on the workout
Wednesday: Work 8-5, 45 minutes in traffic, dinner with Diane before bible study at her house, bible study until 930ish.
Thursday: Work 8-5, 45 minutes in traffic, family night at my sisters house until 9ish
Friday: Work 8-5, 45 minutes in traffic, depending on the night work at the bookstore or workout (most likely the bookstore)
Saturday: Occasionally work at the bookstore, work in the yard or inside the house, bake, cook, laundry, run errands with Sharen, maybe work out/hang out with friends
The trainer said I needed to have at least 4-5 days of cardio and 3-5 days of strength training to make a dent in what I want to do. When exactly am I supposed to do that!? I could do it in the morning but I hate (HATE) showering in public showers. I come out feeling dirtier than when I came in, and I can't/won't go to work all sweaty.
So I'm laying in bed, twirling my hair and thinking about what to do. I could get up at 5am, go to the closest gym to my house and work out for 30-45 minutes and still have time to come home and shower at my house before leaving (on time) for work.
But it's to early, to hard, to much, to inconvenient, I'm not a morning person blah blah blah.
Then it occurred to me. For a year I used to get up at 5am every Monday and Wednesday to serve breakfast to the homeless community. I had very few problems getting up and showered and making the trek to Over The Rhine to do that.
Why?
Why wasn't it to early, to hard, to much, to inconvenient? Why was I a morning person during that year?
Because it wasn't about me. It wasn't a sacrifice for only me. I was serving them. They were worthy and deserving of my time, my energy, my inconvenience.
I realized with a start that I didn't believe that I was worth the sacrifice. I wasn't worth the effort. I didn't deserve it.
On one hand I know that it's not true, but I don't believe it.
I think about the words he spoke that day saying that I deserved to be healthy and I deserved to be in shape. I remember dismissing him and thinking how silly it was that he thought I didn't know that, because I knew it.
I don't, but I'm trying to learn. Because as silly and trite as it sounds God has requested that I get this body of mine under control and that guy just doesn't let up.
So if I'm a little crankier than normal it's probably because I was up at 5am working out. Now I just need to actually do it....
Posts that may only be slightly related:
Fragile
Knowing but not Believing
Stiff
11.22.2009
Discouraged
"It's just not enough"
For a girl that rarely feels like enough for anyone or anything that sentance can devestate.
My trainer said that it's not enough for the loss I'm aiming for to just work out 2-3times a week. He said that if my nutrition was better it could be ok. He said if my nutrition was perfect it would be perfect. I thought, "If I was better...."
But my nutrition sucks. I thought, "I suck"
I'm overwhelmed with how much of what to eat when. When I get overwhelmed enough I just shut down and do nothing. I shrink back and withdrawal because I don't want to look stupid or like I don't know anything. I have denial down to a science.
I condemn myself with harsh and nasty words blaming my laziness and stupidity for the choices that I'm making. I get frustrated that I'm not losing a million pounds a minute and that I still get out of breath when I go up the stairs to many times.
I started holding my breath again.
I can see in my head the actions to take but I just can't seem to get my body to put forth the effort.
I'm going to try something different. Something new. I'm going to try to remember that I'm worth the effort. That I deserve to be healthy and happy. Because most of the time I forget that or believe I've never really known it before. So if I forget from time to time (all the time) maybe you could remind me.
Posts that may only be slightly related:
Learning to Breathe
The Only Balm
Still Broken
For a girl that rarely feels like enough for anyone or anything that sentance can devestate.
My trainer said that it's not enough for the loss I'm aiming for to just work out 2-3times a week. He said that if my nutrition was better it could be ok. He said if my nutrition was perfect it would be perfect. I thought, "If I was better...."
But my nutrition sucks. I thought, "I suck"
I'm overwhelmed with how much of what to eat when. When I get overwhelmed enough I just shut down and do nothing. I shrink back and withdrawal because I don't want to look stupid or like I don't know anything. I have denial down to a science.
I condemn myself with harsh and nasty words blaming my laziness and stupidity for the choices that I'm making. I get frustrated that I'm not losing a million pounds a minute and that I still get out of breath when I go up the stairs to many times.
I started holding my breath again.
I can see in my head the actions to take but I just can't seem to get my body to put forth the effort.
I'm going to try something different. Something new. I'm going to try to remember that I'm worth the effort. That I deserve to be healthy and happy. Because most of the time I forget that or believe I've never really known it before. So if I forget from time to time (all the time) maybe you could remind me.
Posts that may only be slightly related:
Learning to Breathe
The Only Balm
Still Broken
10.12.2009
Impossible possible
It's hard to imagine that a year from now it could all be different. That the clothes I wear will be smaller and the space I take up will be less.
It's like I'm still refusing to believe it, this direction I'm trudging in.
I can hardly believe that I will be able to consistently make good choices, choices that are good for me and not just everyone else, choices that propel me down the path that God is clearly illuminating for me. Me.
My gut instinct is that I'm being selfish, focusing on ME. I know I'm not. I know that the foundation of anything that I do must be my own capacity, health and most importantly my very own personal relationship with Jesus. Because if those things are limited than what I can accomplish, the distance I'll be able to go is limited.
It seemed so vain, sitting alone in that little room with the Dr. Man talking about goals and what was happening down to the cellular level in my body. It felt weird to even be talking about my body, because I have put a lot of time and effort over the years into, at best, ignoring it and at worst abusing it. It was mortifying for him to ask me what size pants I wore, and then terribly self-centered to tell him in a halting and not really believing it can happen voice the size pants I would like to wear (which is less by exactly half by the way).
I felt like I was giving all the wrong answers to questions that had no right answers. I felt dumb because I've buried my head so deep in the sand about what and how I eat that all my food tastes like dirt. I had wound myself up so tightly before Dr. Man called me back into the little room that I was needlessly defensive and antagonistic. Because I was so primed and ready for a fight that I picked one just to relieve some of the tension (I do that sometimes, most likely I've done it with all of you). It felt strange that I wasn't met with cruel words belittling my very existence (which has been the case with oh so many Dr. Men before), but that rather I was met with encouragement, attainable goals and a warm and genuine smile.
I wasn't prepared for that.
This journey of melodramatic weight loss is being lived out so much more internally, in my heart and my head, than I was really prepared for. I'm being confronted by this idea I have of myself that is not based anywhere in the realm of reality. I'm finding the cruelty I so fear coming at me from the mouths of others is really only living in my very own heart. I'm hearing the whisper that it isn't supposed to be this way, that I am not this person I've talked myself into believing I am.
Instead, it's slowly sinking in that I am a cherished child of a big God that has a call on my life to do things in His name. It's finally occurring to me that I wasn't created just to be a punching bag in any way, not even by my own hands.
It was hard to imagine even just a year ago that I would ever truly believe that the promises I read about in scripture truly apply to me even at my most damaged. It seemed impossible that the God I loved and longed for other people to know truly cherished me. Because I put on him the junk of people that are not God and believed that was all there was. But now, I can barely recognize the girl from even just a year ago, let alone the angry sad girl of so many years.
So I'm trying to remind myself, that even though I can hardly imagine that in a year I could wear pants half the size I wear now, that I could have a sustainable habit of eating and living, that I could have so much more capacity to live out the call on my life, even though I can hardly believe it could be true, I know it can be. Because I look back on all the other impossible to believe things that have happened since I met God one scary grief soaked night on a balcony and I see that my God, my big God makes the impossible possible.
Posts that may only be slightly related:
Some Days
Denise
Jesus
It's like I'm still refusing to believe it, this direction I'm trudging in.
I can hardly believe that I will be able to consistently make good choices, choices that are good for me and not just everyone else, choices that propel me down the path that God is clearly illuminating for me. Me.
My gut instinct is that I'm being selfish, focusing on ME. I know I'm not. I know that the foundation of anything that I do must be my own capacity, health and most importantly my very own personal relationship with Jesus. Because if those things are limited than what I can accomplish, the distance I'll be able to go is limited.
It seemed so vain, sitting alone in that little room with the Dr. Man talking about goals and what was happening down to the cellular level in my body. It felt weird to even be talking about my body, because I have put a lot of time and effort over the years into, at best, ignoring it and at worst abusing it. It was mortifying for him to ask me what size pants I wore, and then terribly self-centered to tell him in a halting and not really believing it can happen voice the size pants I would like to wear (which is less by exactly half by the way).
I felt like I was giving all the wrong answers to questions that had no right answers. I felt dumb because I've buried my head so deep in the sand about what and how I eat that all my food tastes like dirt. I had wound myself up so tightly before Dr. Man called me back into the little room that I was needlessly defensive and antagonistic. Because I was so primed and ready for a fight that I picked one just to relieve some of the tension (I do that sometimes, most likely I've done it with all of you). It felt strange that I wasn't met with cruel words belittling my very existence (which has been the case with oh so many Dr. Men before), but that rather I was met with encouragement, attainable goals and a warm and genuine smile.
I wasn't prepared for that.
This journey of melodramatic weight loss is being lived out so much more internally, in my heart and my head, than I was really prepared for. I'm being confronted by this idea I have of myself that is not based anywhere in the realm of reality. I'm finding the cruelty I so fear coming at me from the mouths of others is really only living in my very own heart. I'm hearing the whisper that it isn't supposed to be this way, that I am not this person I've talked myself into believing I am.
Instead, it's slowly sinking in that I am a cherished child of a big God that has a call on my life to do things in His name. It's finally occurring to me that I wasn't created just to be a punching bag in any way, not even by my own hands.
It was hard to imagine even just a year ago that I would ever truly believe that the promises I read about in scripture truly apply to me even at my most damaged. It seemed impossible that the God I loved and longed for other people to know truly cherished me. Because I put on him the junk of people that are not God and believed that was all there was. But now, I can barely recognize the girl from even just a year ago, let alone the angry sad girl of so many years.
So I'm trying to remind myself, that even though I can hardly imagine that in a year I could wear pants half the size I wear now, that I could have a sustainable habit of eating and living, that I could have so much more capacity to live out the call on my life, even though I can hardly believe it could be true, I know it can be. Because I look back on all the other impossible to believe things that have happened since I met God one scary grief soaked night on a balcony and I see that my God, my big God makes the impossible possible.
Posts that may only be slightly related:
Some Days
Denise
Jesus
9.30.2009
Lady Cramps
I worked out with HT (hot trainer) last night. It wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be, as is true with most things it seems.
HT had me working out so he could observe my endurance, posture and core strength. He said I did good and had good habits in everything, which was news to me.
At one point I was sitting on the floor doing some ab exercises, trying to hold my core in and not fart (what?) when my abs cramped up. So I stopped and had a conversation that went as such:
Me: "Youch! I have a cramp!" (pant pant pant)
HT: "That's not good, is it a dehydration cramp or a um....er...uh...lady cramp?"
Me: (Trying to contain my laughter and not make out with HT on the spot) "It's an 'I don't have any abdominal muscles cramp'"
HT: "Oh. Ok then" (blushes)
If possible HT got a little cuter and more endearing.
He said that I have a good base of habits and endurance and he's going to give me jump start work outs to do at least 2 other times a week. Those will be adapted as my strength and flexibility increases.
Friday I'm meeting with a Dr. at the gym who will do my body metrics (or something). He'll be measuring my BMI, my active and resting metabolism and how many calories I burn at rest (which is that the same as metabolism? I don't know). I'll be meeting with him once every 6 weeks to track the progress of increasing my metabolism and decreasing my BMI (which every time I type that I think poop...you know BM. Anyone? Anyone? Oh never mind)
Dr Man will give HT the clinical side of what's going on with my body and HT will use that information to help me establish a functional and sustainable nutrition and exercise plan over the next year.
Also, I will not be posting my weight, just so you know. Some bloggers have done that but I'm a little to vain for that. Is that good or bad? I don't care.
But I'll try to give updates on weight/inch loss if possible every 6 or so weeks when I meet with Dr Man.
So here we go. I'm going to be melodramatic and awkward about it just in case you didn't know me at all and thought things were always non-dramatic and simple with me. Also, I can't believe I typed fart and poop in the same post....
HT had me working out so he could observe my endurance, posture and core strength. He said I did good and had good habits in everything, which was news to me.
At one point I was sitting on the floor doing some ab exercises, trying to hold my core in and not fart (what?) when my abs cramped up. So I stopped and had a conversation that went as such:
Me: "Youch! I have a cramp!" (pant pant pant)
HT: "That's not good, is it a dehydration cramp or a um....er...uh...lady cramp?"
Me: (Trying to contain my laughter and not make out with HT on the spot) "It's an 'I don't have any abdominal muscles cramp'"
HT: "Oh. Ok then" (blushes)
If possible HT got a little cuter and more endearing.
He said that I have a good base of habits and endurance and he's going to give me jump start work outs to do at least 2 other times a week. Those will be adapted as my strength and flexibility increases.
Friday I'm meeting with a Dr. at the gym who will do my body metrics (or something). He'll be measuring my BMI, my active and resting metabolism and how many calories I burn at rest (which is that the same as metabolism? I don't know). I'll be meeting with him once every 6 weeks to track the progress of increasing my metabolism and decreasing my BMI (which every time I type that I think poop...you know BM. Anyone? Anyone? Oh never mind)
Dr Man will give HT the clinical side of what's going on with my body and HT will use that information to help me establish a functional and sustainable nutrition and exercise plan over the next year.
Also, I will not be posting my weight, just so you know. Some bloggers have done that but I'm a little to vain for that. Is that good or bad? I don't care.
But I'll try to give updates on weight/inch loss if possible every 6 or so weeks when I meet with Dr Man.
So here we go. I'm going to be melodramatic and awkward about it just in case you didn't know me at all and thought things were always non-dramatic and simple with me. Also, I can't believe I typed fart and poop in the same post....
9.29.2009
Turn and Face the Strain
I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
Inevitably before any major change I exert a great deal of energy talking myself out of changing. It's not that I dislike change, because I like it, a lot, in theory and in others.
I find change revitalizing and energizing, I enjoy being challenged and stretched, pushed and shoved out of my comfort zone. I love change, when I'm looking back on it in the review mirror, or even out the side of it when I'm already in it.
But change is like the first tentative squealing steps into an ice cold pool in the biting January air. At the beginning I will do everything up to and including throwing myself on the ground and beating my fists on the floor. I hate it.
Change, when I see it coming down the pike is stressful, I'm sure for you too. I don't know what to expect, I don't know what will happen, I wonder about what I will wear, what I will say, will anyone talk to me, how will I be ridiculed and made fun of. I worry, I fear.
I'm claiming my 30th year as a year that I get healthy. Because I'm not healthy. Not even a little. I hate the idea of having to get healthy because it means changing some deeply ingrained habits and thoughts about my physical self.
For so long I felt like a pile of poop on the inside. Ugly, unlovable, undeserving of grace and kindness. I felt, well honestly I felt like I knew that at any moment the world would come crashing down on me and those that I admired, that I loved and longed to love me would wake up and leave because I felt so disgusting.
Since I fell in love with Jesus and began following Him God has been aggressively and at times painfully pursuing all the fragmented pieces of me. He's been stitching me back together and showing me in unimaginable ways that the way I used to feel on the inside was a damn lie. He's shown me that just because something is said to and about me doesn't make it true. He's brought people into my life that speak God into my life and his truth into my heart. It has been 5 years since it began and 2 years since I started cooperating with the work God has been doing.
I still fight the urges to remember the poison that used to live inside, when I'm stressed or tired I will still believe that I am worthless and ugly inside and out for at least a little bit. But my insides are recovering, they're feeling better and more stable.
I'm ready for the outside to match the inside.
But I still fight. The weight is an old friend, something that has comforted me through food and laziness. It's given me a convenient excuse to not take risks, to not engage relationships both platonic and otherwise. The weight has been my barrier against the world, everything and everyone in it.
I'm terrified and rationalizing that it's just not that bad I can wait a little longer, it's not a big deal. It's exhausting, annoying, inconvenient and it makes me feel crabby most of the time.
Tonight, it begins in earnest. I signed up with a personal trainer, a one on one wiping the floor with me personal trainer and certified nutritionist.
I'm afraid I'll fail, that I won't lose anything, that it won't make a difference, that I'll sabotage with chocolate peanut butter Reeses Pumpkins and Big Macs. I'm afraid I'll look stupid, that I'll get hurt somehow, that I won't be prepared for what happens, that I won't have the discipline and so on and so on.
But I'm turning and facing the strain. The strain that comes in changing everything.
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