It’s now been over 4 ½ years since I joined Weight Watchers
again. Almost half a decade now I’ve
devoted myself to a journey of better health.
Looking back I can say a lot of things.
I’ve never been perfect.
I’ve never been consistent.
I’ve never been a 100% all in.
I’ve never been anything less than me.
I’ve never been prouder of myself.
Lot of “nevers” there, but all of them are true. When I started this time I had the visions of
“in one year I’ll be …….” And then a year came and went. All the things I thought in the beginning
didn’t quite play out the way I planned.
All the things I would be able to do, all the clothes I would fit in,
the whole new Iife I’d have, none of that happened.
At first I went through the obligatory honeymoon phase where
you weigh, track and measure all your food and diligently track them. Then when the glitter falls off that or you
have your first (gasp) gain, things get a little rougher. I suppose I should say “for some” and not lump
everyone into this category. I shall
just say that I’ve experienced it and witnessed it a *cough* few *cough* times
with others.
What happened to me and I’m sure others is life gets in the way
of things. For me the answer to this was
to never give up. If there is any secret
to share, that would be mine. Don’t.
Give. Up.
I can say with complete honesty that if you took about 10
feet of kite string, wadded it up, ran it through mud, snow, and rain, then let
it dry to a hardened crusty tangle you would have a pretty good visual of my
journey so far. Dirty, little sad
looking, and all over the place. Yes,
that sums it up pretty well. But if you
took the time to really look, you’d also see that it’s not a broken string, it’s
just beat up.
Since I’ve started WW I’ve tracked, not tracked, drank
water, not drank much water, over eaten, under eaten, eaten like I was having a
last meal, acted like I wasn’t on WW, been active, been a slug, reached some
personal goals, set new personal records, started over a long way from where I
was, and pretty much everything in between.
Somewhere in all that I found myself. I can’t say that I’ve found my way, because I’m
still going. There is no finish line,
except death and I’m not eager to find that line, even if it did have a balloon
arch and fireworks.
As of last night I am 60.8 pounds from where I started. While I’ve always been on my journey, I
finally hit a place mentally where I can look back and nod knowingly at the
triumphant trail of fat cells that are someplace on the path behind me.
It’s hard not to compare yourself to others, but I’m really
progressing on that. It’s empowering
when you reach the point where you know you own your journey. The speed of that varies, but what matters is
getting there. If you can start out
there, awesome, if it takes you 10 years, that’s awesome too.
My journey isn’t harder, easier, faster, slower, or whatever
other descriptive than yours or the person a block over. I have my own lessons to learn. I have my own hills to climb. I have had mountains and cliffs so far. I’ve had a lot of clear smooth sailing days
too. The point is, it’s all mine to
navigate and that has taken time. It
will continue to take time. Others will
join WW and hit goal before I do. Others
will give up and disappear before I hit goal.
Their journeys can and will teach me things, but they will not define
mine.
As amazing as hitting 60 pounds gone, something bigger
happened last night. I had just arrived
at my meeting and was chatting with my friends when I heard “well hello Karen”
and turned to find a relative. My first
words were “hello, what brings you here?”
She looked at me with what I recognized as “the look” since it’s a
shared female trait in Mom’s family, and says “I’m here to lose weight,
obviously.” It was the same shared
condescending tone as well. I smiled and
told her she was in the right place.
My first thought was “well there goes my meetings!” because
once again I was confronted with situation where being me and what I’m expected
to be with family don’t always merge. I
thought I would now sit quietly and not interact like I used to.
Then I stopped myself.
What the hell was I thinking? I have to change who I am?!?!? Talk about a wft moment in my life! What’s she going to do, tell the extended
family that I only see at funerals that I talk a lot at my meeting? These people matter how? This was all processed in a matter of seconds
in my brain and I shared my inner battle with a few friends. The looked so confused as to why I thought I should
change and that confirmed what I’d thought.
I don’t need to change if it means conforming to someone else’s idea of
who I should be … and that idea isn’t one that enhances my life.
I will conform to your idea if you see me as stronger than I
see myself, smarted than I give myself credit, and more capable than I can
dream, because the people who have done that for me all along have kept my fire
stoked. I am so blessed that I have
wonderful people who believe in me even when I don’t believe in myself. I have cheerleaders who are proud of me for finally seeing in myself what they say
they’ve always seen.
I’m only guessing what my relative thinks of me. She may have been in awe of me for all I know
(can’t say that she spoke to me after the meeting! Ha!) The point for me was that I have embraced
being me. That means I love me, I love
the people who love me, and if you can’t stand me, that’s just fine too. I’m going to make it without your adoration
*grin*
So the long winded point of this all was to say: the next
time you find yourself giving up for whatever reason, don’t. Take a break, throw a fit, wallow, whatever,
but then get right back at it. Learn on
the journey. Learn to celebrate your
body. Learn to celebrate little things. Be proud of every single day you are trying.
You’ll get there. And
then there. And then there from there.
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