I generally try to keep my blog pretty upbeat and positive. I don't like to be a whiner. I really don't. But some days, I feel like whining. Today during my prayer time, I made a list of the things I am thankful for. They are big things. Like health. You don't appreciate your health until you don't have it anymore. You know when you're sick and you just want to feel better, darn it? That's a huge HUGE thing. I have mine. I am grateful. I have healthy kids and a healthy husband. That right there should be enough to keep me from whining. Ever. Again.
I don't like to complain.
But after my diet post a week or so ago, I've been mulling. Pondering. Wishing. Wishing I could have someone whisper the right path in my ear so I don't waste time or money trying to figure out what to do. Here's my dilemma. Last night, I had convinced myself I need to go back to Weight Watchers. It worked before, so why would I assume it wouldn't work again? I came within five pounds of my goal weight thanks to working out and doing WW. I love that program.
My sister sent me this picture as incentive. This is probably at my lowest.
Because of my history with the illustrious eating disorders, I have this innate need to "get it right." I don't want to take pills or get injections. I want to solve this naturally. Diet. Exercise. Health. Nourishment. I am not on a quest to get skinny so much as I am on a quest to get comfortable in my skin. Part of this is mental (and I know it...) but part of it is physical. What I eat. How I move. And when I do EVERYTHING right and get nowhere...I whine.
My poor husband. He feels the pressure of listening because he is just that kind. Or maybe he's just putting up with me...
But then, he IS an onion...so I think he sorta gets it.
The truth is, I'm afraid. I'm afraid to fail at something else. I'm afraid to go back to WW and discover my body is not going to lose this weight thanks to my hormones or my thyroid or some other gland that I don't know exists.
(Isn't it funny when I was a kid, I'd hear people say sarcastically "Oh, I have a glandular problem", like it was a big joke or something... but if someone truly has a glandular problem, I gotta tell you, it's no laughing matter. These people (I've read LOTS of personal stories) get no help. Anywhere. They go from doctor to doctor and get nothing. No one even believes there's a problem. Because a fat person is just eating too much and not exercising.
But what if they are? And they're still gaining? It's odd. I think we write people off so quickly when they are obese. We fail to see the person inside.
The hard part is sorting through my physical issues versus my mental issues. How much of this is obsessive behavior and how much of it is truly a desire for health? I am looking to change my life... from the inside out. I'm looking, not to TAKE control, but to hand the control over to a Higher Power (let's call him GOD), and see what happens. But it's that letting go part that I struggle with.
I struggle to forget those little comments, digs like "You used to be so skinny..." or names I was called as a kid. (Why do we never forget those? I mean, seriously...)
So, it's an odd place I find myself in.
Ready but hesitant.
Brave but fearful.
Hopeful but scared to sell out.
I have MUCH to be thankful for. And I know that...
... but I'm not WHOLE. Not yet.
And I've not quite learned how to let go.