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On Self Esteem

This weekend Dear Abby has a terrific letter from a teacher who wrote about the importance of bolstering self-esteem in kids. She said that she identifies kids in her class who suffer from low self-esteem and makes it a goal to find ways to show and tell them that they are worthy. In her letter she talked to parents about finding ways to encourage their children, help them to feel good about themselves and so on.

I suffered from lousy self-esteem for so many years, and it all began long before I ever realized that was the problem. I don’t know why it started and, honestly, I don’t know how resolved the issues. I suspect that the answer in both cases lies with family. I think there are also elements of self-actualization, or lack thereof, mixed in as well.

When I was younger, I measured myself in comparison to others and always felt that I came up far short. I would never be as great, accomplished and revered as my father. I wasn’t as smart or as good a student as my brother. I wouldn’t be as universally loved or loving as my mother. I created these opinions and they were my “truths”. Once established in my psyche, it didn’t matter that Mom, Dad and J didn’t set out to make me feel these things. This was my story and I stuck with it and every experience reinforced the negative feelings. The feelings fed my eating disorder, the eating disorder packed on pounds and reinforced the feelings. Damned vicious cycle.

I also counted on my father to be my safety net as well as my yardstick. When I graduated college and got a job that I not only liked but was good at, my confidence grew, but I still viewed my achievements through the Dad filter. This was not a period of great self-actualization by any means.

Small wonder that when Dad died, somewhat unexpectedly, my confidence fell apart. In addition to tremendous grief, I was completely stressed out and had an incredibly difficult time dealing with it. I hadn’t build enough foundation within to support myself in this difficult times. It was awful. This kicked off an almost ten year period of really crappy, stressful times with successes, failures, situations that were emotionally damaging and devastating to my self-esteem.

Eventually I got into therapy and then OA. Even if I didn’t achieve long-term weight loss, the work began to knit up the shredded self-esteem, shore up the crumbled confidence and allowed me to build a better foundation for the future. I think in this period began the greater awareness of my own abilities, talents and strength. The self-actualization. I became my own measuring stick instead of relying on myself.

I brought a stronger, more confident and balanced person to my relationships with my family and friends — including the two youngest bundles of awesome — my nephews. I felt closer to my brother and sister-in-law. Mom and I had always been close, but there was a different maturity to our mother-daughter bond. I no longer felt second best to the people I loved. I was secure with the people that mattered most. It was great enough to feel that from my adult family members. Added to it was the fact that A and J thought Aunt Mary was the coolest. Yes, that was an incredible self-esteem bolster.

When Mom was diagnosed with cancer, then suffered strokes and the seizure problems, I became her primary caregiver. It was hard mentally, emotionally, and physically. Caring for her, working with my brother and sister-in-law and Mom’s doctors to determine best treatment plans and everything when she couldn’t do it on her own, doing what she needed — My friends, I know that nothing I had ever done before, nor would again, would be that important. Ultimately, we could not save her life, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that we could have done better than we did.

As devastated as I was when Mom died, and as long as I mourned her after (still miss her today), I didn’t fall apart like I did when Dad died. Sure I was older and more mature, but even more, was the self-actualization, the confidence, the improved self-esteem. These carried me through. The experience also set me up for the transition to what has been the last, great 12 years of my life. In my job today, I have the most responsibility on the largest scale that I ever did and am part of a mission far greater than I had ever before experienced. I am more confident in my ability to do this job today and with whatever challenges might crop up in the future.

I could not have done this job 20 or 25 years ago. Today I have no doubts. The confidence, the self-esteem are real. When I think of this in terms of my weight and obesity issues, I have to wonder. Maybe it really did take me getting to my strongest place emotionally with solid self-esteem before I could succeed with the weight loss surgery. I don’t know. I’m only glad that I’m in that place today.

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Stepping Stones and Milestones

Day two of the detox went great again. Part of me thinks I should keep going with what is essentially the “full liquid” program that the doctor put me on for two weeks prior to my weight loss surgery. Then part of me says, “You’re honeymooning the detox because you had two great days. Let’s no go overboard.” That second part of me is so sensible.

This is coming down to weight loss. I’m 13 pounds away from my next big milestone – reaching what others on this journey refer to as “One-derland”. It means getting to a weight lower than 200 pounds. I have an appointment with my surgeon on December 13th. It would make me incredibly happy to lose 13 pounds in that time, but at this stage of the game, it is unrealistic to set my sights on that rapid a weight loss in two weeks. I’d have to go on a complete hunger strike which would be neither sustainable nor healthy.

I don’t even know that I can set this as the goal for the end of the year. Well, I could set it. I could set anything, but going by the number does not mean that I’m setting myself up for success. In fact, I know that it would set me up for stress, frustration and, possibly, failure. As much as I want to get there right now, I need to trust that the process and my efforts will get me to my destination.

Everything that I say or do needs to be a stepping stone to continued success and eventually reaching my goal. Think about what stepping stones do for us. They define the path and, when the ground beneath our feet is unstable, marshy or otherwise difficult to travel, they support our steps and keep us going forward on the journey.

I think I’m a little road weary but at the same time committed to continuing on. Sticking to the food plan, working hard on my exercise, attending to all of the little things adds up to achieving the big things. The stepping stones lead to milestones.

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Not Focused on Feasting

We’re heading into Thanksgiving week. I’m grateful for so much I’d run short of numbers of I tried to count all of my blessings.

Last year, I don’t remember if I connected with anyone for Thanksgiving. I know that on the day after I started a three day Dr. Oz detox. I worked very hard to not focus on food. I was afraid that I would feel all resentful and deprived because I couldn’t feast like I once had and send myself into a food coma. This year, I am again not focusing on Thanksgiving Day as an opportunity to overeat. I have no plans for a big dinner fest. Instead, a friend and I are going to do something — depending on the weather. Right now I’m hoping for a great boating day.

I was thinking about the family Thanksgiving dinners we had over the years. We were nothing if not generous with the amount of food and variety of dishes that we prepared, put on the table, and then scooped onto our plates. I was just remembering one in particular when my brother came home from college. When he went away to school he became a non-meat eater and committed to a much healthier way of eating that he’s maintained for 42 years. He was pretty opinionated about it when he first came home. I remember him making his own yogurt and granola too. That one Thanksgiving, he looked at the table with the perfectly browned humongous turkey and plethora of side dishes and proclaimed some obnoxious comment about the carbohydrate binge.

You know what? He was right. Accompanying the turkey, we had chestnut stuffing, mashed white potatoes and candied sweet potatoes plus “traditional” green bean casserole complete with the fried onion ring things on top, and mashed rutabagas, which most people considered turnips. I think there was usually a big bowl of homemade cole slaw too and dinner rolls, plus cranberry sauce or cranberry relish. That was all before the pies were served for dessert — pumpkin and apple for sure.

It was all homemade and incredibly delicious! We’d go back for seconds, or even thirds, on our favorites.

If I went to that kind of feast now, even if I took the smallest dab of each of those dishes, I’d be full to the point of it coming back up again before I got past the third choice.

Wow. For the sake of my health and well-being, I am thankful that I am not motivated to eat like that any longer, and that my surgically-altered stomach prevents me from doing so if I’m tempted. However, I’d be lying if I said that I don’t have a few nostalgic yearnings for some of those foods. Without even thinking about it, I’ve come up with a plan.

At the store yesterday, I bought a single rutabaga, a white sweet potato, and some green beans. Over the next week, I’m going to make these and eat them at different meals. I’m also going to buy a small package of chestnuts, roast them and eat them plain without adding them to any bread stuffing.

I never studied the nutritional breakdown of a rutabaga before but I looked it up today. A cup has around 7 grams of carbs and 4 grams of fiber. I know that the sweet potato and chestnuts have significantly more carbs but I’m not planning to overeat on any of them so I am confident that I can work them into a healthy eating plan.

By spreading out these dishes over several days and meals, I can enjoy the flavor favorites of the holidays and not engage in unhealthy gorging. (Gorging is all relative after weight-loss surgery, but you get the idea.) I think that I will savor and enjoy them all the more for choosing to consume them within the guidelines of healthier eating.

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Food Plan vs Diet

You might have noticed that I rarely call what I’m doing dieting. That’s deliberate. I hate thinking of being on a diet so I try to keep my brain trained on following a healthy food plan which, right now, is also intended to be a losing plan. But not a diet. 🙂

Why, you might ask, am I so resistant to a simple word? I admit that there are a lot of negative memories and experiences infused in that simple four letter word. When I think of a diet, I automatically think of every single extreme, desperate, or even crazy thing that I tried over the years. Many of these were medically supervised, thank God, or I could be dead.

I can’t remember if my first structured commercial diet was Weight Watchers, or if it was the fat camp that I went to when I was 11. Here’s all that I’ll say about fat camp — it knocked off the pounds and we were definitely physically active, so it wasn’t a bad experience. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn enough to transition the benefits to my every day life for very long.

What I remember most about Weight Watchers was Mom driving me to the weekly classes, hating the weigh-ins, and Mom also buying some of the foods. (This was long before WW had their full lines in grocery stores.) I also remember being forced to eat tuna, which I hate. I don’t like any seafood. The only way I could choke it down was if I drowned the taste in mustard. Still, Weight Watchers is not a horrible, extreme diet to follow. Even back then it was well thought out.

So, those were the least extreme diets in my life. Now let’s get to the other end of the spectrum. In college, some doctor released the first liquid protein diet. My father checked it out and I believe it was a sign of how desperate my folks were for me to get healthy that he ever greenlighted me for it. Mom took me to the first appointment. Basically, all I took into my system for months was this viscous red, godawfultasting protein liquid. Not very much of it at that. It’s a wonder I never passed out, but I lost weight. My body fed itself on its stored fat. I took the train into NYC from school every week for a check up and to get my new supply of liquid. I was deep in ketosis, had to constantly guard against bad breath, and emotionally miserable. I can’t remember how long I stayed on this diet — maybe six months? — but I never did reach goal weight. Of course, as soon as I stopped and began eating, I put the weight right back on.

Next on the extreme scale, was one that earns its ranking for weirdness and unproven methodology. A local doctor claimed that shots of human placenta would accelerate weight loss. I don’t remember now if that was before or after my Dad’s death. I know I was an adult and Mom went with me the first time for moral support. I can’t even remember what the eating guidelines were for this program. The doctor was definitely on the creepy side. I didn’t last long with this effort.

The most successful diet I went on, prior to the weight loss surgery effort and my current success, was another one that focused primarily on protein. Nine ounces of protein a day and a cup of salad a day. No starches, no fruit at all. I ate so much chicken that year, I’m surprised that I didn’t cluck upon waking. I lost 103 pounds. Because this was another extreme plan, I went to the clinic three times a week for monitoring and also attended the weekly discussion class.

Sprinkled among the years were more attempts with Weight Watchers and forays into other popular plans like Optifast and other similar ones. I was a yo-yo dieter for sure. In 1996-1997, I consulted a nutritionist and had decent success, helped by one of the popular “diet” drugs. That drug was later pulled from the market because of it possibly causing heart problems.

After that, except for a couple more Weight Watchers online attempts, I really didn’t have any big loss successes until I decided to do the vertical sleeve gastrectomy. One could say that my current food plan is pretty extreme, but it doesn’t seem crazy. I eat enough and it’s well balanced. There just isn’t much to it. Honestly, I think I eat healthier now than I have ever, and not just in terms of quantity. I really do make an effort to eat lower fat and less sugar. I don’t eat a lot of junk starches. Fast food restaurants, which were once staples in my weekly eating, are now places I drive by instead of drive-through.

It’s almost two years since I had the surgery. Two years where I have either steadily lost weight or, when I’ve plateaued, at least maintained the weight loss. This is a record for me in terms of time. It’s been a terrific confidence boost too. I grow less scared that I’ll ultimately screw up again with every day that I soldier on. I still want to lose the remaining pounds. When I do, I don’t yet know what the maintenance food plan will look like. However, I feel really strong and positive that I can incorporate this one for life.

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The Disease Never Goes Away

I had a bad disease day. Lots of compulsive eating, despite the fact that I’d psyched myself up to have a really great day. It’s not good to blame anything for going off of the rails, but I may as well as share about how a good start in the morning suddenly turned sucky.

I got up early — around 6 a.m. and decided to take advantage of the early start by doing a quick segment of my in-home walking DVD. I did the 15 minute one mile walk, which energized me. By doing so, I figured out that my Fitbit doesn’t log every single step. I think you have to have full forward motion. I don’t believe it caught the kicks. However, that doesn’t matter so much. The point was to exercise.

Okay, so I exercised, showered, got dressed, fed the dogs, and got out the ingredients for a pumpkin smoothie. I put all of the ingredients in the blender, hit the button and — Holy crapola! — ice came flying out the top, the machine made a horrible noise and then it stopped working.

Blenders don’t behave well when you leave the spoon in the container. Dopey move! I salvaged the mixture and poured it into my glass for sipping. I’d left a grill pan soaking overnight in the sink by accident, so I wanted to clean it up. All was fine until I put the pan up to drain and knocked a glass vase into the sink where it promptly shattered. I felt a piece of glass fly into my eye and froze in place, telling myself, “Don’t blink! Don’t blink! Don’t blink!”

I couldn’t feel anything touching my eyeball but I didn’t want to take any chances. Still forcing myself to keep my lid open, I ran to my bathroom, very carefully removed my contact lens, grabbed the eye wash and rinsed out the eye. I think that the piece of glass must have bounced from my eye as soon as it hit, because nothing came out when I rinsed. I gingerly felt around and was mighty darned relieved to realize that everything was okay.

For some reason, this all just through me off. I returned to the kitchen, drank my smoothie, managed to fix the blender, and then took the dogs for a walk. Although relieved, I was still tense and this stayed with me.

Honestly, writing this recap, it feels a lot like I’m whining. Sorry.

Anyway, I was doing okay at work food wise through the morning. I walked past a huge bowl of leftover Halloween candy and told myself “No”. I savored tea, drank water and even made it through my yogurt for lunch. Then someone brought out a plate of homemade truffles. That quickly, the compulsive eating disease stampeded right over my good intentions and determination. I had to have one, and then another.

This not only didn’t satisfy the chocolate craving, but it kicked up an overall desire to eat and continue eating. Unfortunately, someone had already put out a platter of veggie lasagna. Seriously, when I’m in disease-eating mode, the only safe place for me is a locked room without any food within reach. I am so incredibly resentful and pissed off right now. I. Hate. Being. A. Compulsive. Eater.

Saying that is akin to a child crying. Hating the disease doesn’t change one damned thing. I need to suck it up and move on, rebuilding my determination to be abstinent for the rest of tonight and start fresh again tomorrow. I get it.

So I really want other compulsive eaters, or others who are contemplating weight loss surgery, to remember this. Having bariatric surgery does not cure you of an eating disorder. It’s really important to realize that there comes a time when even small, inappropriate bites can throw you off track. The disease never goes away. Each of us still needs to deal with the compulsion every day.

I can’t reshape today. I can only do better tomorrow. That’s the plan.

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Lapping the Couch

That post name reads funny, doesn’t it? I don’t mean I’m sitting here licking my sofa. The name was inspired by a captioned photo I saw on a friend’s Facebook page today. The picture was of an obese man jogging. Even in a still image, you could tell he was sort of shuffling along. The caption read: It doesn’t matter how slow you go, you’re still lapping the person on the couch.

I think that’s a wonderful reminder for anybody who is out of shape and overweight but who wants to change. If you’re like I was before surgery, when walking more than a few blocks made me gasp, longer walks made me hurt, and I had to use the stair railing to help myself get up steps, it can be incredibly daunting to take even the first small steps toward exercise.

After my surgery, I didn’t have much energy. Because of the operation, I tired easily. However, the medical staff told me to get up and walk every day. Actually, I was up and walking with company down the hall of the hospital a couple of hours after I was in the room from recovery. That must have been quite the sight as I wheeled my IV pole along with me. At least it was a bariatric specialty floor so the hospital gown really did go all around my body to keep me from flashing anyone. Maybe I didn’t walk far the first couple of trips that day, but I walked. Each time, I walked a little further.

Same thing when I got home. Although I rested and recuperated a lot, I made sure to also walk a couple of times a day, each time going a little further.

As my body recovered and the weight dropped off, my strength, endurance and overall ability increased. You know the rest. Now I can do long bike rides or walks, an hour of Zumba, Tai Chi and pretty much anything else I want to try. It happens — but it all starts with the first few steps.

It doesn’t matter how fast you move as long as you move. Every step and moment of motion is an improvement over the minutes that we spend flopped in our chairs or on our couches. I find this enormously encouraging and motivating.

Sometimes the mental blocks are as hard, or harder, to overcome than the physical challenge. Every once in a while, my lazy brain wants to kick in again and give me reasons why I don’t have to exercise, why it would be too difficult or even why it’s okay to skip it. This morning, for example, the wind was blowing pretty hard. I knew that no matter what direction I went, at some point I’d have to pedal against a 15-20 mph wind. I could have stayed home but I’d committed to getting in a longer ride today. I decided to suck it up and go.

I rode east, into the wind when starting out, thinking it was better to do the harder part when my legs were their freshest. The first two miles were difficult, but I pumped along and got to the beach road where I turned south. That was an easier direction for the next two miles and a very pretty path with glimpses of sparkling water and a lovely sunshine but cooler temperatures. I reached the beach, stopped for a good guzzle of water, and then turned around. Whew boy, did the challenge ever begin as I headed right into the northeast wind!

Usually, I ride on the toughest gear, figuring that gives my legs the best workout. I have to admit that with the wind in my face, I needed to turn down a couple of notches so that I could maintain a decent pace. As I pumped and pedaled, wheeling along the beach rode, I realized that I was smiling. Sure, I’m never going to reach the speeds of the Tour de France, but it doesn’t matter. At least I’m pedaling on a regular basis.

The first weekend that I got the bike, I ran into some long distance bikers on my way home from my first ride. We chatted for a few minutes and I shared that I was only just starting out riding a bike after many years and I hoped it would aid me in my overall weight loss efforts.

The man told me that if I kept at it, I would succeed. He also said that the speed didn’t matter as much as the duration of my rides. After seeing the picture online today, I’m taking what he said to heart. Regardless of how fast, or how slow, I go, I’m still accomplishing more than I would by doing nothing.

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Just Saying “No!”

I have Nancy Reagan chanting in my head right now. Just Say No. Just Say No. For those of you too young to remember the Reagan presidency years, Mrs. Reagan campaigned against illegal drug use and promoted Just Say No to encourage kids not to give in to peer group pressure to try drugs.

So, why am I doing this today? It’s October and one of my co-workers brought out her plastic pumpkin, loaded it with miniature candy bars, and placed it on the kitchen counter in our office building. Another friend keeps a stash of chocolate in her drawer for all of us. These are dangerous times for me, my friends. I love chocolate and such easy, convenient access is not good.

In the grand scheme of things, a single miniature piece of chocolate is not bad. However, since I’m already struggling with a slower weight loss and the resulting frustration, etc., one thing leads to another and to another and to another. I’m a compulsive overeater and can quickly get out of control. True, that with weight loss surgery, it’s not like I can pack away food by the pound, but even smaller deviations can further slow my positive progress. Those small pieces can act like the little rock under the larger stone that throws everything off balance. I saw this happening yesterday and the small portion of chocolate set up a greater craving for a chocolate cookie. It’s a slippery slope.

To protect myself for today, I need to stay away from the chocolate and not even risk starting the process with a single piece. Every time I walk into the kitchen (also the location of our copier and mail boxes), I look at that grinning pumpkin and am tempted. That’s when I channel Nancy Reagan and say to myself, “No!”

I’m really the only one who can derail my effort by taking the wrong action. It stands to reason that I’m the only one who can keep myself moving forward in the right way. To that, today, I say, “Yes!”

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Providing Support

There was an article in the paper over the weekend that talked about how some people do not receive positive support from their circle of family and friends. Sometimes, when you make positive changes in your life, some of the people around you don’t know how to react or what to say. Some may feel threatened as if your changes affect them or, often more to the point, as if it pressures them to also change.

Picture if a friend was a smoking buddy, drinking buddy or eating buddy. If you’re overweight and eat a lot and you’re around friends who also eat a lot and are overweight, it creates a more comfortable atmosphere. It’s okay to eat a lot around them because they’re doing it too. So if one of the buddies decides not to overeat, it can make the other buddies uncomfortable, like they’ll be judged for not making the same decision.

Some people will even go so far as to sabotage the other person’s positive efforts. It’s that important for them to maintain the status quo.

I have been phenomenally fortunate in that I have not encountered any negative reactions to my journey. Perhaps there are one or two friends/acquaintances who have been mostly silent and absent, but the vast majority of people in my life have showered me with overwhelmingly positive support. Even people I know more casually through business or around town applaud my efforts and cheer me on. Those of you here are also a constant support system. I am very lucky and always appreciative.

The article I read also talked about the journey being a two way street. It pointed out that it’s important for the person who is making/has made the changes to be supportive to the circle in the ways that the individuals surrounding them need. This was an excellent point. Supporting others in the way that they need means being sensitive to their journeys and where they are in their respective processes. It does not mean that I should suddenly start urging any overweight friend to get with the program and start working on their own diet and fitness. I’m not going to cast long, disapproving looks at their plates or scoff if they order dessert. Being supportive means being there to listen and encourage whether they’re able to begin weight loss efforts or not. That’s non-judgmental and truly supportive.

I spent too many years resisting help or running on the “lose-lose-lose-gain-it-all-back” wheel to not understand how difficult it is to maintain long term success. I am not going to fault someone else for not trying or not trying harder. If they want a diet and fitness buddy, I’m available. If they don’t, that has to be okay too.

It’s hard sometimes to find the balance. When my mom had her last, worst relapse, she not only fell off of the wagon with her alcoholism but the wheels nearly came off her life all together. There was no way that we, her family, could not stage an intervention. However, we also knew that if she did not choose to try to recover, we could only change our own lives and choices in order to protect ourselves. What she did with her life was up to her. If she chose recovery which, thank God, she did, then we could give her every bit of support and help that we could muster.

It’s most difficult for me around the few friends that still smoke cigarettes. Yes, I’m one of those former smokers who absolutely hate cigarettes and all forms of smoking. (Coming up this October 28th will be the 27th anniversary of me quitting.) The smell of cigarette smoke grosses me out. I have a couple of friends who are heavy smokers and the smell infusing their clothing is so strong that it almost makes me sick to hug them. I hug them anyway because I love them, but I don’t comment or wave my hands to blow away the smoke if they light up. I do try to stand upwind, however. Smoke blowing in my face makes me sick. I don’t permit smoking in my house or car but keep a single ashtray around if someone wants to smoke on my outside porch.

If they want to quit and ask me how I did it so many years ago, I’m happy to share and empathize, cheer for them and support them however they need. It’s up to them to make the choice.

This makes me think of a quote by Plato that I have taped to my desk. “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

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Hold Fast to Dreams

A few weeks ago, 60 year old distance swimmer Diana Nyad completed a near lifelong dream to set a record by being the first person to swim from Cuba to Key West without the protection of a shark cage. She’d tried four times previously and, this time, was successful. She says that she wanted to do so to show everyone that you’re never too old to live your dreams and make them come true.

Earlier today, my not quite 50 year old friend opened up a fabulous studio that will inspire creativity and make a place for people to explore painting pottery, experimenting in glass fusion, learn to make jewelry, and try all manner of art endeavors. I personally plan to go in and try to throw a pot. (I think that’s the term for sitting at wheel, squishing molding clay in my hands to make something. These kinds of art projects are definitely not my forte, but I think that will be fun to at least try.

I was 54 when I finally had weight loss surgery. There are times when I now wonder, and castigate myself, for waiting so damned long, for living most of my life super obese.

Today, I choose to not look back with regret. I’m not going to punish myself emotionally or scold myself. I’m not going to consider the years wasted. There is no point to doing any of those things.

Every minute I might spend living in regret is a minute that I’m not living in the moment. I can’t take back the past, but I sure as hell can make sure not to squander another second of my present or my future.

I have so many things still on my Promise List; so many dreams. I’m going to hold fast to each one until I make them happen.

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes

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Stalled or Self-Sabotage?

Yesterday I read a truly outstanding, revelatory blog post by Skye. I couldn’t possibly do it justice in my description here, but you can go and read it too at her blog.

Skye talks about power, protection and progress and how she often diminishes herself, her strengths and talents, largely out of a need to protect herself.

This really made me think. It touched something inside that I need to tug out and study. I have been musing a lot about where it’s my body that’s had me sort of stalled in my weight loss, or if I’m self-sabotaging my progress. Am I having a few more incidents of eating compulsively strictly because I have the eating disorder, or am I using my disease to interfere with my weight loss success?

I’m sort of in a tug-of-war with myself. On the one hand, I bought my bike and am riding it regularly. Whether riding to Tai Chi class and back yesterday, or the half hour bike ride I did a short time ago, I’m definitely increasing the amount of exercise. On the other hand, I know for a fact that I should not buy that snack mix. Even if it has healthy nuts and raisins in it with a sprinkling of chocolate pieces, it is not a good food for me to have in the house because there is a great likelihood that I will snack on it too often.

I bought a bunch of fresh fruit and veggies to prepare for meals this week. I also gave in to the buy one-get-one-free on English Muffins. In my brain at that moment of decision was the thought that, everyone once in awhile it’s okay for me to have a little bit of carbohydrates and at least these were the whole grain, low fat variety. Honestly, these would be okay if I ate half of one. Believe it or not, just that little restraint can be a struggle for me.

Anyway, I am really wondering whether I’m self-sabotaging and purposely slowing myself down. If so, why? I do not have the slightest idea of why I would be reluctant to achieve goal weight. I am so incredibly happy — joyful, elated even — with the progress I’ve made so far. There is no payoff to me in not seeing my way through to the end. There is nothing that I fear about being healthy and at goal weight. At least, there is nothing that I can identify.

This is an interesting conundrum to ponder. In between Skye’s terrific post and her follow up sharing about the rebound and my own musing, I was reminded of the Marianne Williamson piece that says:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.’ We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

We are all meant to shine. I love this idea.
So, for now, whenever I am tempted to make a poor food choice or grab for a little more of even a healthy snack, I’m going to ask myself why. Why do I want to eat that? What’s the payoff? Why do I think I want that more in that moment than I want to keep making progress toward my goal.

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