In my life a physical symbol must always follow something going on within.
For example, the moment I graduated from high school, I chopped my hair off; the moment I had my heart broken, I stopped going to school and reinvented myself completely – while this is not something I am proud of, it is the gospel truth. Now, upon my quest to stop restricting my food and live a fulfilled life I had decided to… clean my room.
And I mean clean. I am gutting it out. In the process (which only ended up being my closet) I found something that really struck me. It was a diary of mine from years ago. In it was written:
You will do it. Eat less and exercise more. Do it.
At first, I could not believe it. Here I look at the hand-writing of a 12-year-old me, obsessed with weight loss. Fixed on the notion of eating less. Then I read:
I am so excited to lose the weight. 140 is my goal and a healthy weight for someone my size!!!
Where did I go wrong? I immediately became envious of my former self. My erstwhile innocence felt as if it were almost mocking me. I immediately closed the book and forced it back into its box.
The days and years that lay amid that journal entry and today are lost on me. Where did that little girl go? The one who knew exactly what she wanted and was excited about getting there?
Often I envy men and women who lose weight in a healthy manor. You see them, glowing, feeling accomplished. While not stick thin in most scenarios, all are blissful at their goal weight. That discuss their enjoyment of foods – healthy ones – and their growing interest in activity. Maybe they’ll run a marathon; maybe they’ll try cross fit. I envy these people because they did it right. No, they got it right.The woke up one morning, ignored what the TV said and got it right/
I, on the other hand, got it wrong. I took a wrong turn and ended up 20 pounds under my goal. Can you say ‘oops’?
I did not want to cry about it though. I mean, shit does happen, right? Best to move on and learn.
So here I go…
Five Ways I am Getting it Right… NOW
I tried gelato!
3. I ate cake. Seven pieces. (no picture. They’re all in my belly).
4. I worried about over-indulging over vacation, but didn’t worry about gaining weight.
5. I let him in.
One of the biggest issues I have is keeping everyone at bay. Part of being overly focused on food and exercise is you almost become a hermit about it. As a result, you become sheltered from everyone and everything. Your family, your friends and for me, my boyfriend – the one and only guy who truly doesn’t care about my body, only my heart and my health.
For a long time I was convinced that in order to get over this I needed to do it alone. But I can’t. I admit it; I’m not strong enough. I’m strong, but not enough to do it without support. Over the week in Vancouver this boy sat me down and did not leave me until I ate every spec of what I needed to. This boy, held me up (literally) in the moments I felt I would fall. This boy knew, without me having to tell him, that I was “shaky” and did everything he could do make me feel better. This boy is waiting; this boy is patient. And last week, I finally (above the other four) got it right with him. I have come to accept that I may never be as strong as some. And as much as I hate that and as scary as it is, I am finally ready to rely on him. To need him. Until the day I die, I will need him.
So there you have it.
Looks like I am finally, kind of, getting it right.