Its no secret.
Well, its no secret if you know me.
I struggle with my weight.
I struggle with saying no to the foods I love.
I struggle with self sabotage when I do start to lose weight.
I don't take care of myself.
Not the way I should. Not the way I really want to. Not the way that those who love me would like me to.
I gained nearly 20 pounds while my husband was deployed for 6 months.
10 of that was weight I'd lost before he left.
In the past it was easy for me to focus on a diet or program while my husband was deployed.
Perhaps having young children made it easier in a way. Structure. Accountability. Constant motion.
I viewed a diet as a distraction to make the time pass quickly and look really "hot" for when my husband would return home.
Maybe its peri menopause, or perhaps the release of our last child into adulthood.
Maybe. Maybe those are more excuses to eat comfort foods.
I finally have the time to take care of me.....but am finding it hard to do.
As a stay home wife and mom I have carved out plenty of "me time".
But "me time" is different than "take care of me time".
Like choosing to go for a walk rather than taking a nap.
Or eating a healthy salad rather than the hamburger and french fries that I crave.
Choosing to work in the yard rather than sit in the lounge chair with a book.
Don't get me wrong here, I know there is a need for both sometimes, but to always choose the easier and .....let's be blunt....laziest option isn't good for the body or the mind.
Life happens. My kids grew up and the house became emptier. We moved to a new town and I found myself not working at all. Working part time in my childrens' school district kept me busy for many years, as well as a small home staging business. But when I found myself in my mid 40's without either a few years ago, I lost myself. I guess they call it mid life crisis, peri menopause, whatever. Everyone handles that season differently, but for me it was very hard. I found a great doctor who treated the anxiety and depression that often accompany hormonal changes. I am over a year off of any anxiety or depression meds and feel emotionally stronger and happier than I have since my early forties. I'm on a bio identical progesterone cream and a low dose natural thyroid medication as well. My mind feels strong and my emotions peaceful and content.
But my body is heavier than it has ever been. When I expressed my concerns of weight with my sister right before my husband returned she was brutally honest. "I don't know why you are so worried, Jodi. Haven't you been fat for most of your marriage? Jeff loves you just the way you are!"
True. But ouch!
Last Spring I was on one of the many diets I have tried over the years. This one was for feeling better more than anything. And I felt great on it. I announced it on Facebook.
I shared pictures of my salads and proclaimed victory. Then I stopped posting about it. Obviously, I'd stopped following the diet. A month or so after, during a phone conversation with my mom, she mentioned that perhaps I should stop posting my diets on Facebook as its obvious I'm not sticking with it.
True. But ouch again!
I don't want to hide or be ashamed of my struggle with food and motivation to exercise. I don't want to apologize for failing what I started. My disappointment in myself is large enough already. I do believe that a majority of the battle is in my head! Why do I believe somewhere deep inside that I need to have this cushion around myself, protecting me from something. That even though I feel better and lighter when I lose the weight, I also feel vulnerable and lost in new expectations for myself.
Is it because that if I succeed at losing the 60 extra pounds, that I will feel strong and successful? Can't that be scary in itself? Will I then have the confidence and motivation to reach other goals or milestones? Or will I succeed only long enough to fail in the long run again.
Perhaps I should treat this journey as my job. Maybe God has allowed me this time AT this time to take myself seriously. To show up, do the work, and get a paycheck of doing a job well done and healthy living. But I'm afraid I will fail once again. But I am also TIRED of being afraid of failure!
If I were one of my children and they came to me with these fears or struggles I would hold them in my arms and tell them that they are strong, and capable, and lovely just as they are. That they are not defined by size or personal struggles. That they are able to do whatever they set their minds to. And I would encourage them every.single.day. with prayer, with love, with kindness.
It's time to love myself the way I love my children. To treat myself with the same unconditional love. To accept myself and my failures as part of the journey to being who God created me to be. To draw closer to my creator so that He can fill the spots inside of my heart that food seems to fill.
So, here I am, once again putting myself out there. Bare naked for the world to see when I stumble or fall. Exposed as I pick myself up and press onward one day at a time. A new year, a new start.
xoxo
Jodi
