Weighty Matters

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Surround Yourself with Happy

As I continue to spew sparkly rainbows, I also keep thinking about how many rainbows and bright spots I have around me. I’ve talked about positive support before, so forgive me if this post sounds like the same thing, but it’s really been that kind of day. I have a friend that I speak to several times a week. Whenever I give her an update on my weight loss, I can hear her applauding for me through the telephone.

At work, I give an update once a week and get high fives and hugs. Because I dropped several pounds over the last week and because I was away and out of sight for almost a week before, I think the recent weight loss became more noticeable. This creates more positive comments.

The positive reinforcement bolsters me up and helps me remain even more motivated to continue. The choice to follow my plan is mine to make. I believe I’d choose to keep on even without the great support, but I’m delighted that I don’t have to find out for sure.

Some people are comfortable living in drama and negativity. They act like lightning rods, drawing those energies closer to fill up their surroundings. I’m not sure what payoff they receive, but there must be something.

There are others going through genuinely tough times and struggling to find their happy.

I’m going to continue surrounding myself with happy, believing in my heart that this creates more. I want there to be an abundance of it in my life so that I can spread it around and share it with others — particularly those who might find their supply on the low side. Maybe happiness can be shared like seeds. Then someone else can plant the seeds they’re given, nurture them and, hopefully, see their own happy grow stronger.

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Sparkly Rainbows

From the moment I woke up today I’ve been in a great mood.  Dancing inside, high spirits, joy in my heart type of good mood.  As I said in a comment on one of today’s Reinventing Fabulous posts, I felt like spewing sparkly rainbows all around me.

I don’t know where/why I came up with that image.  Really, it’s not like I can actually open my mouth and hurl sparkly rainbows.  On the other hand, it would be kind of fun if I could.

When I weighed myself recently I discovered that I’ve lost over 80 pounds.  It’s been a mad great week for weight loss.  I really cut out empty carbs like those in bread, crackers, cereal, pasta and rice.  I still get some in fruits, peanut butter, etc., but not the other kind.  This change, which I committed to, has shown great results.  I don’t know how long it will last, but for right now I’m going to ride it like a magic carpet.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve grown tired of my hair style.  I’ve been letting it get longer and longer, but started to think the style wasn’t flattering to me.   Last week, I spoke with my stylist and gave her an, ahem, head’s up, about my decision.  She knows my hair better than I do and when I went in for my appointment last night showed me several styles that she thought would work.  We decided on one.  She went to work and the results were terrific.   There’s just something about a great new hair style that puts some sparkle in a woman’s spirit.

Every time I walk or do Tai Chi, or dance a little bit around the house, I feel how much better and easier I can move.  My right knee isn’t 100%, and probably will never be, but it’s greatly improved.  I have more endurance and strength, along with additional energy.

It’s unbelievable to me that so many great changes have taken place in only a little over four months.  I’m not used to seeing this amount of good manifest in my life in so short a time.  I only know that I’m going to enjoy it, revel in the positiveness of it all, and keep building on it for more success in the future.  It’s a valuable, powerful lesson.

A lot of people struggle and are unhappy with their current situations.  I was.  In fact, I’d venture to say that I was unhappier than I even let myself admit.   Now I’m spewing sparkly rainbows.   Granted, there was no magic, instantaneous cure.  A half measure would have availed me nothing, so it took a full on commitment to serious action.  The results are worth whatever steps I had to take, and will continue to take.

If this can happen for me, it can happen for anyone.  You, too, can have sparkly rainbows in your future.  Until then, allow me to spew you some of mine. :-)

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Dance Like Nobody’s Watching

I added onto my post yesterday about taking my first ever Zumba Gold class.  Zumba Gold is for those of us who are over 50 and it doesn’t bring quite the intensity as the regular Zumba workouts.  This does not mean, however, that it’s a gentle stroll on a sandy beach.  During that hour, you dance-workout to a number of up tempo songs doing dance steps, working all your body parts, shimmying like a Dancing with the Stars contestant and, in general, getting your heart rate up, up, up.  There are also some numbers where you dance while shaking toning sticks and that focuses additional toning strength on your arms in particular.

This class was a blast.  I am thrilled that I was able to keep up and do the entire workout without keeling over from lack of oxygen or having my legs collapse beneath me like melting gelatin.

One thing that I kept thinking about yesterday was the importance of being willing to try this new activity and not be self-conscious or embarrassed about how I might actually appear while doing the moves.   While I have the ability to keep a beat and decent rhythm, I sure as hell did not look as crisp and solid in my motions as the instructor and some of the other women in the class.  Some things that were awesome dance moves by them were closer to flailing when I tried them for the first time.  When I shimmy my boobs threaten to swing from one side of the room to the other, so I was glad that I wore a snug sports bra under my T-shirt.   One wall of the room is a floor-to-ceiling mirror.  I focused on the instructor and definitely not on myself.

So here’s my point.  Sometimes you just have to dance like nobody’s watching.  I aimed for constant motion over quality and precision.  I’m sure I’ll get better with practice, but in the meantime, the goal was cardio exercise.  It’s not like I had a dance judge waiting to score my performance.  Nobody else in class was going to offer me a style critique.  A couple of them also flailed a bit even though they have more experience.

Overweight people are very self-conscious, by and large.  (No pun intended.)  We don’t have great body image.  I’ve only met a few women in my life who were overweight and completely comfortable with their excess pounds.  In fact, they both belly-danced, wearing sheer, revealing, midriff-baring outfits!  I admire their confidence while knowing that I’d never replicate it in quite those circumstances.  I’ll get up and dance with friends at parties and not think twice about it because it’s all about the fun.

I was able to put away my self-consciousness and Zumba like nobody was watching.  In that class, it was all about the fitness.

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On Not Getting Discouraged

Last year around this time I was out at the sandbar on my boat with friends.  We were there at a higher tide so my boat was “up” in the water.  After swimming and walking around for awhile I went to the ladder to climb back aboard.  I couldn’t do it.   Even though I could get my foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, my center of gravity (aka my ass) was too low for me to get enough push power from my legs.  I was too heavy to pull myself up using arm strength.

This was a sobering, upsetting, and defining moment.  I had been considering weight loss surgery to this point, but considering and doing are far apart.  At that point, so were considering and investigating.  That day I drew a line in the sand, or sandbar.  The realization that I was too heavy to get back on my own boat hit me hard and I decided right then and there that I was definitely going to have surgery.  I started my investigation into options, methods and doctors that very week.

It’s like the event brought home to me in terms as crystal clear as the water that day that my excess weight was disabling me and keeping me from doing things that I loved to do.  I couldn’t imagine how miserable my life would become as the situation deteriorated, but knowing that it would indeed get worse became an excellent and powerful motivation.

I’ve been looking forward to getting back to the sandbar to see if I’ve lost enough weight to haul myself out yet.  The weather this weekend has been gorgeous.  Yesterday, friends and I headed out at a higher tide.  We enjoyed a wonderful ride, speeding across the water, picked a spot at the sandbar and anchored.  We slid into the water, floating around, swimming and talking for awhile.  When I was ready to climb on board, I again had to put my foot up pretty high — let’s say a height between my hip and my waist.  Unfortunately, in that position I still didn’t have enough strength to make it the rest of the way.  The immediate disappointment was sharp and discouraging.  I asked my friend onboard to let out a little more anchor line so that I could pull the boat back to a little more shallow water.  Now my foot was probably just below hip height.  This time I was successful in boosting and pulling without much trouble.  Whew!

Back on board, I processed the situation and my disappointment.  There are a couple of things at play.  One of my knees does not operate at full strength, so I’m a little low on boost power.  I also know that I haven’t done much work on building upper body strength.  I might have lost almost 80 pounds, but I still have a lot to lose.   When all was said and done and thought about, I realized that I cannot let this discourage me.  I’ve made great progress and, before too long, this won’t be an issue.  I’ll be able to go up that ladder, regardless of water depth, like the most agile person around.  In time, I’ll be able to jump off that boat, even in water that’s over my head, and be completely confident that I can climb out again.   I know this in my heart.

Instead of taking this as a setback, I’m going to use it as an indicator tool of goals.  1) Keep to the food plan and continue to lose weight.  2) Work on strengthening my leg muscles which will support my knees overall and help me with boosting. (The Tai Chi I do is excellent in this regard.)  3) Add some upper body and arm work.  (Tai Chi helps with some of that, but I need to add some light weights, which I can do at home.)

In the past, any discouragement or disappointment was an excuse to overeat.  Not this time.  It’s a mile marker and a reminder that this is a process.  I’m on my way and the more that I do, the more that I’ll be able to do.

Since I’ve spoken a few times about the sandbar, I thought you might like to see what I’m talking about.  Here’s a picture that I took early in the day.  Boats continued to arrive during the three hours that we were there, so by the time we left, there were twice as many vessels stretched along the space.  Quite the floating party!

A beautiful day in a beautiful spot.

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Edited to add:

Shortly after putting up this post, I was chatting with a friend on the phone.  She’s a Zumba instructor and told me she was leading a Zumba Gold class (for ages 50 and up) at 10:15.  Doing Zumba is on my Promise List.  I figured this was a great opportunity to give this exercise class a shot.  I rushed out and got there on time.  Whew!  What an experience.  I am extremely surprised, and happy, to find that I can keep up with the aerobic activity and toning.  I lasted the entire hour and didn’t pass out.  :-) Maybe not all of my steps are perfect, but I gave everything my best effort, worked up a sweat and had fun!  Yay for me!

Unfortunately, the current class schedule only offers Zumba Gold weekdays when I’m working but my friend hopes to start a class on Saturday mornings.  Count me in!

 

 

 

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Remembering and Looking Forward

It’s Memorial Day Weekend and I’m remembering a lot of people.  I’m holding thoughts and prayers for our military men and women who have served this country and guarded our freedom throughout history.   All of them, then and now, are heroes.

I think of family members who are no longer with us.  My grandparents, uncles, my cousin.  Most of all, I think of my parents.  I’m a little sad when I remember all of the years of me starting out chubby and growing progressively heavier as years went on.  Oh, their years of worrying and concern for me, my health, my happiness.  They tried everything they could think of to help me.  I think I might still have technically been an adolescent when Mom first took me to a Weight Watchers meeting.  When I was 11, they enrolled me in a summer camp that specialized in weight loss for girls.  The year that I lost 100 pounds on a medically supervised program where I ate only nine ounces of protein a day, they supported the effort by making sure that dinner was always something that I liked.  I was living away from home at that point, on my own, but they gave me the money so I could afford the program.  Dad, a doctor, also always wanted to know the results of my lab work and doctor check-ups to make sure that I was healthy.

There were a lot fewer choices for heavy kids and teens back then.   This caused challenges for dressy clothes for upscale events that we were invited to and, memorably, when I needed an authentic costume for my role in a high school play.  Mom went out of her way to take me shopping, even if we had to go to Philly or New York to find what I needed.

Through it all, they loved me.  Even if they were upset, worried, frustrated and angry, they always, always loved me more.

I was close to my thinnest in years when Dad died in 1983.  Six months prior to his death, my brother and sister-in-law got married.  I think I mentioned here before looking at pictures from their wedding.  I really looked good!  I’d also been achieving some weight loss success when Mom was diagnosed with cancer in 1998 and we started those long months of illness leading to her death.   I guess I can take some comfort at least that during those times their worry for me was reduced because I was doing better.

I’m feeling some regret today for all of those years, not merely because of the pain it caused them, but also for myself.  Then I remember that regret is a wasted emotion.  I can’t take back those times and, for whatever reason, every action and reaction led me here today.  I can only be happy that I’m doing something now and know, in my very heart of hearts, that they would be truly happy for me too.   I’m also very grateful to them, even years after their deaths.   Thanks to them, my investment portfolio had a good start and that’s how I was able to pay for the surgery myself since my health insurance wouldn’t cover the procedure.   In that respect, they’re still helping me take care of myself.

Looking forward, I’m going out on my boat again today.  I think of them every time that I do.  My love of the water, boating and fishing started when I was a baby.  We had so many great times.  Those memories are near and dear to my heart.

So, enough about me and the past.  I always think that Memorial Day Weekend is a great time to look not only to memories, but also to where we are today and where we’re going.  As we honor the fallen soldiers, we need to commit, every day, to providing for the needs today of our active military and veterans.  So many are coming back from the war with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and horrible physical injuries.  The families of active duty personnel need our support too.  We also need to look ahead and see what each of us can do better — for our soldiers, for our families and for ourselves.

I donate to an organization that provides programs for wounded warriors.  I want to seek out some that support families at home.

For me, I’m going to take each day as it comes and continue taking the steps to improve my health.   It makes me happy and, up in Heaven, I know my folks are happy, too!

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Positive Support

Ever since I decided last year to have weight loss surgery, I’ve received nothing but terrific support from everyone in my family as well as my friends.  This support and encouragement has meant the world to me.  The support continues to help every single day and I don’t even know whether the people around me realize the extent.

It’s wonderful that those around me think first about what I need and how they can aid me in my effort.  Whether it’s the encouraging word or a friend offering to share their lunch the day that I forgot to bring mine from home, people want me to succeed.   They respect the changes in my life.  When I’m finished with my portion at a meal, nobody suggests that I have one more taste or take just a little of this or a little of that because, after all, it won’t hurt.  They get that this is different from a diet.  I’ve been pretty up front and honest with them from the beginning that if I eat too much the food literally doesn’t sit well.  In fact, it can reach the point where it doesn’t remain seated at all.

Nobody’s tried to sabotage me either.  It amazes me that there are people, sometimes family or friends, who engage in sabotaging the healthy efforts of a loved one.  I suppose there are some who purposely set out to do this with malicious intent.  Maybe they’re jealous of the person’s success.  I’d like to think that most diet saboteurs don’t realize that’s what they’re doing with their actions.  At heart, I believe they’re motivated subconsciously by their own insecurities or neuroses.  Maybe it makes them feel bad when someone around them successfully loses weight because they themselves are not making progress.  When I regularly attended OA meetings, I heard people talk about “eating buddies” and the validation that they used to feel when someone else in their lives was also an overeater,  a food addict, or experiencing some other eating disorder.

This time, I have health buddies — a network of people who are cheering me on.  They’re all around and alongside me — ready, willing and able to help me however I need.  This time, I’m also much better about sharing what I need, asking for help, and letting them know what kind of help, too.  That’s been part of my learning process, too.  I was always reluctant to ask for help before because I felt like involving other people in my effort set us all up for more disappointment if/when I eventually failed.   This time, I know what I need and failure is not an option.  At the end of the road, there won’t be any disappointment to be found.  :-)

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Progress report:

Seventeen weeks since surgery and I’m down 77 pounds!  Woot.  Many thanks to all of you who read my blog.  Whether you realize it or not, I count you as part of my support team, too!

 

 

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Little Things

While I was away, it seemed more difficult to assess how I was doing.  Would have been a whole lot easier if I hadn’t fallen out of the habit of entering all of my food into the myfitnesspal tracker.  That’s one of my new re-commitments.  I do better when I track what I eat.  (Jotting down mental note.)

Anyway, being away from home also means being out of the regular, normal routine.   I knew that I’d eaten more carbs than I should and had wine or a cocktail too frequently, not to mention some bites of chocolates or dessert.  From the time I went to Boston to when I drove home yesterday, I felt like I’d been really “bad” with my eating.  That’s always been how I characterized my daily efforts — was I good or bad?  Not “Did I make good choices and eat appropriately” or the opposite but whether I, myself, was good or bad.  This goes back to the topic I wrote about a few posts ago on how we talk to ourselves.

So, because I ate and drank — even though I never overate or drank alcohol to excess — because I didn’t adhere 100% to my food plan, I was positive that I’d been bad and totally screwed up my efforts.   I really didn’t know what I’d see when I stepped on the scale this morning, but I wasn’t expecting to be pleased.

Surprise of all surprises, I actually lost a pound.  I gaped at the number on the scale.  Then, just to be sure, I stepped off and stepped on again to verify the results.  Woot!  Happy, happy!

I’ve been thinking about this off and on all day.  There are lessons here for me to absorb.  I haven’t figured them all out yet, but I have some solid thoughts.

I need to banish bad and good from my vocabulary when assessing or discussing myself and my food plan performance.  What I do regarding my food on a daily basis does not make me a good or bad person.  I, a human person, make choices.  These choices will either be healthy and in line with my food plan, or they won’t.  Or, they will represent treats that I am absolutely allowed to give myself once in awhile.

I need to work on my thinking.  As I continue to practice and adjust to eating such small amounts, I need to remember that variations do not mean I’ve trashed the entire program.  If I occasionally enjoy a glass of wine or a chocolate brownie, I need to stop stressing out about it.  Stress negates the enjoyment.  Not only does that then feel sucky, it sort of destroys the moment.  What’s the point?

Clearly, I do better than I think I do in unusual circumstances and surroundings.  I guess in the past I always thought I was “cheating”.  I became furtive and stealthy, always looking around and over my shoulder to see if other people were watching what and how much I ate.  Some still do.  Most people don’t care.

My perception of people who eat “normally” is that they select and consume what they like in moderation when they want it.  One step at a time, that’s what I’m working toward.  Little shifts in thinking, little things I can adapt in my choices and attitude — These things will add up to great success!

 

 

 

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Please Be Seated

Being morbidly obese is stressful, physically, mentally and emotionally.  Unless someone is so deep in their own denial that they completely block out reality, the awareness of our bodies — often how huge we feel — is always front and center.  For so many years, I never sat in an unknown-to-me chair without first assessing, and worrying, whether it was sturdily built and could hold my weight.  Given the option between a dinner chair with arms and a side chair without arms, I always picked the side chair rather than face the possibly humiliation of my ass being to big to fit in the other style.

In theaters or arenas, or conferences set up with rows of chairs, I always wanted a seat on the end.  Not only did I not want to squeeze in between two other bodies, but I didn’t want to discomfort two other people forced to sit on either side.  Same thing with airplanes.  Aisle seat, please!

There are numerous other situations where I always eyed available spaces and fretted over whether I was too big, but right now I’m thinking about seating.  Specifically, I’m feeling grateful that I’ve lost enough weight to be free of most of these worries.  The chairs at my nephew’s graduation were not the strongest looking folding style, but I wasn’t worried.  Granted, I didn’t body slam myself into the chair.  I employed a graceful, ladylike lowering of my rear end.  However, I also was confident that the chair would hold up — and it did.  I had aisle seats up and back to Boston in the planes and could definitely feel more room on either side of my body — except when the young woman fell asleep next to me and slumped over to my side.

I’m at a conference for a few days.  Tonight a group of us went to an Irish pub with tall tables and high stools.  It wasn’t always easy for me to boost myself up onto one of these stools.  No problem tonight!

I know that I can fit more comfortably in the different seats, and also actually relax now that I don’t have to fear the chair breaking or collapsing beneath me.  I’ve shed the pounds and, in so doing, have also lost the emotional heaviness and stress.  These are developments that I’ll definitely take sitting down!

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Observations on the Road

I flew to Boston on Friday for my younger nephew’s college graduation and lovely time with family.  Time has been short and Internet access slow, so I’m behind in blogging.  This is my second more major trip since surgery, meaning I’m really out of my element without easy access to the “tried and true”.  I have some observations, good and bad, about traveling.

Carbs are always more readily accessible than quality protein.  I still prepared, by packing some cheese, etc.  Unfortunately, I realize I still have the tendency to want the carbs and justify the want in my head, even when there is no logic to that choice.  I’ve had some successes and fails this weekend.  Success — not buying a Dunkin Donuts doughnut when I went for tea at the airport.  Success — realizing I could buy a meat and cheese pack that offered small portions on the plane.  Fail — also eating the pita chips that came in the pack.  Success – Enjoying a lovely stroll for several blocks on Friday afternoon.  Fail – That glass of wine that I really didn’t need but the hotel offered every afternoon.  Compounded that with a white sangria at dinner.  Not supposed to drink that much alcohol.  Success — eggs for breakfast.  Success — making healthy choices and not overeating at the post-convocation reception.  Success — Another lovely stroll yesterday afternoon.  Success/Fail — excellent dinner with good portion control last night, but was starving by the time we ordered entrees so I had a piece of bread.  However, turned down a cocktail.  Success — yogurt and fresh berries for breakfast this morning!   I guess when I look back at the whole weekend, I did more good than harm to my food plan so, overall I’ll rate this a plus weekend.  Besides that, emotionally it was terrific to be with my loved ones.

Emotionally, I have to say that I observed a very human development while I’ve been away.  Last night, at our celebratory dinner in a really good restaurant, I was temporarily overcome by a swamp of resentment.  I’d ordered a delicious rib eye done in a wine reduction.  It was absolutely delicious.  I was thoroughly pissed off that I couldn’t physically eat more of it.  I didn’t care so much about not eating more than a couple of the also tasty rosemary pomme frites, but damn it, I really, really wanted more of the meat!

The portion was huge and, even in my pre-surgery days I would have been hard pressed to consume the entire rib eye.   Last night, I would have hated wasting almost the entire thing.  Luckily, my 20-something year old nephews have good appetites.  I cut the portion in half at the beginning and portioned it out to them.  I hate slowly, chewing many times and savoring the flavors.  Aware that my mood relating to the limited capacity to eat was pissy at best, I made the conscious decision to just accept that this is the way it is for me now.  I could let it spoil the evening for me or I could put it away and enjoy myself.  That’s what I chose.  The acceptance eased the resentment and my mood improved.

I believe my nephew’s ultimate goal is to own and run his own restaurant.  I suggested last night that when he does that years from now, there will no doubt be many, many more people who have had bariatric surgery.  So, instead of relegating them to appetizers, which are not the full menu of choices, he should also offer “petite” plate versions of each of his entrees.  I think that’s a great idea.  I also think that someone should do a small bites cooking show on Food Network that focuses on wonderful flavors and textures in small amounts.  Instant hit!

Well, it’s almost time for me to leave for the airport.  One other observation that continues to please me, is how much easier it is for me physically to travel.  Hoofing around airports isn’t nearly as strenuous and uncomfortable.  I practically revel in my body’s fluidity and the new found comfort I have, even with a backpack on while pulling a suitcase!

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How We Talk to Ourselves

I’m not a stupid woman.  Most would say, and I’ll admit if pressed, that I’m actually pretty smart.  This doesn’t mean that I don’t sometimes do stupid things.  Take this evening, for example.  My contractor friend is going to fix/patch my porch columns, and then repaint the columns, railing and porch floor.  I’m psyched.  This work is wayyyy overdo and I spend a lot of time on my porch, so I want it to look nice and be comfortable.  For many, many years, I’ve had a very old set of wicker furniture.  Not the kind you mostly see today which is wickeresque in some sort of plastic material over steel.  No, this is the old fashioned woven stuff.  The set is more than 40 years old.  I’d guess it’s closer to 60 years.  It was in our family home when my folks bought it in 1970.  At times, I’ve used it for living room furniture in my first few apartments and when I moved to the Keys over 10 years ago, it was the perfect set for my porch.

Ten years of Florida Keys atmosphere with heat, sun and salt water takes a toll on pretty much everything.  The set has served me well, but its collapsing and falling apart.  Time to put away the nostalgia, bid it a fond farewell, and replace it all with something new, sturdy and comfortable.

I should have asked for help from friends to move the furniture off of my porch prior to the work beginning later this week.  Shoulda-Coulda, but didn’t.  No big deal.  The contractor said he’d remove the two biggest pieces.  I knew I could handle the chairs.  That was my task for earlier this evening.  I thought I was saving steps and strain when I decided to sort of toss the chairs over the low railing into the side yard instead of carrying it down a couple of steps, out through the gate and around the house.  Everything went fine with the first chair.  Then I picked up the second and didn’t quite heave it with enough strength.  Instead of clearing neatly tumbling over the railing to the ground, the chair hit an outside faucet, snapping the plastic water pipe.  The faucet and hose hit the ground and water gushed from the broken pipe.

Chanting a litany of curse words and berating myself for my stupidity, I ran into the house to grab the tool I needed to turn off the water at the street.  I then quickly called a plumber and lucked out when they answered the phone and promised to send someone out right away.   When the guy arrived and asked what the problem was, I answered, “The problem is I’m a lazy idiot who knocked off an outside faucet.”

Luckily, it turned out to be an easy repair.  The problem’s fixed and water service is restored.

At least that problem’s fixed.  There’s still the matter of how I instinctively spoke in less than glowing terms to myself.  That’s something that definitely needs some repair.  The fact is that the idea might not have been the brightest, but if I’d executed it properly, dumping the chairs over the railing would have been a time and strain saver.  My problem was in execution.  I made a dumb mistake, but making an error doesn’t mean that I am stupid.  I’m not an idiot.

Rationally, logically, I know all of this and can definitely differentiate between the two things.  It puzzles me that I sometimes still fall back on some sort of “believing I’m not good enough” reflex and beat up on myself.   Believing I’m Not Good Enough is one way to spell binge and the shaky self-esteem was a big part of my overeating disorder.

I’ve come a long way from the worst days, but apparently I still have work to do.  I don’t think it’s a coincidence that, even though I had a delicious, adequate dinner, I’ve felt hungry all night.  It’s definitely not physical hunger, but pangs of the emotional variety.

Keeping it in perspective, I don’t want to blow this evening’s situation out of proportion and make it have more of an impact on me than appropriate.  I think it’s healthy to look at it calmly.  Doing so, I think it’s fair to attribute my reaction to the stress of the moment.  Now that I’m writing about it and working through the process, I can pretty much laugh at it, give myself an affectionate head smack, and remind myself not to take it so hard the next time I do something that doesn’t quite work out as planned.

It’s important to separate the action from the person — whether that person is someone else or me.  Self-awareness will be a helpful tool.  Instead of treating myself poorly or speaking badly to myself, I’m going to work on treating myself with respect, compassion, and love.  I can give myself a motivating kick in the butt when necessary, but I’m not allowed to call myself disrespectful names.

How I talk to myself can tear me down, but done with positive intent, it can also support the journey to healing.

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