Why?: Day 64

Why? A small word that can have so many answers. Kids ask “Why?” all the time, and we patiently answer their queries. When adults ask the “Why?” question, we tend to want to look for a deeper answer, a more fulfilling one than a cursory gloss over can fill. When I look back over the peaks and valleys of the past 64 days, I think back over my mental hurdles, the multitude of “Why?” question that I would serve up to myself on a weekly, daily, sometimes even hourly, basis. I would lose heart. I would lose motivation. I would, essentially, lose purpose.

Yesterday was a very difficult day for me. My son has challenged me to go carb free for one week (which he has now stretched into two), and yesterday was my third day of no carbs… It hurt. I was aware of the pain -not a physical pain, but a mental one. A desire so strong to break, to eat the carbs that my mind was craving. I can see that now, in the morning after. My body didn’t really want or need the carbs, or the sweet, but my mind convinced me it did. My best friend (who is also on a lifestyle change) and I even went so far as to go to the grocery store last night in search of a carb free treat that would appease our minds. We bought supplies needed to make a keto candy, but we stopped there. All of the ingredients are still in my kitchen, unopened. When we got back here last night, we remembered that we are stronger than the craving. So we were.

 

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This morning I woke feeling stronger, mentally, for not caving into temptation, and I have gone so far as to call work and asked my co-worker to hide the candy jar before I get to work tonight. Out of sight, out of mind. I have to remember that food, in any form, is not the answer. Not the solution to my problems. I need to stop when I think I am hungry and think about why I am hungry. Am I stressed? Bored? Tired? I need to come up with solutions to the hunger beyond eating.

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But this morning also marked a large milestone for me; 64 days and, I can finally say 20 pounds. I’m still not at a 10% loss, but I am getting there, and once I do, I’ll have new goals to set.

One thing I have to remember as I continue on this journey is that my value is not dependent on how much, or how little, I weigh. I am still working on this lesson, referring back to a post I wrote a couple of years ago, that actually popped up on my memories this morning. You can read that post here.

I need to remember that life is intended to be a marathon, not a sprint, and any change worth making -and keeping- develops over time.

 

It’s the Little Things: Day 31

Here I still am, miraculously looking at the dawn of day 31 of my challenge /change, and it seems every week, if not every day, I am learning something new, and something more about myself. I’ll be honest (because here, veiled with anonymity, I can be completely honest with myself and you) and tell you that 30 days ago, I was not 100 percent certain I would stick it out this long.

I have been pushing myself further and harder on the treadmill during my workouts, walking step after step up to five miles in just over 70 minutes. Because of the energy and efforts I have been putting into myself, I broke into a new, lower decade that I’ve not seen for several months. My loss as of Day 30? 12 pounds.

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But, as I say in my title, it’s the small things. I had removed all of my smaller clothes from the house before the holidays in a sign of recognition and acceptance that I would never again fit into them. I had to have a point of reference, for myself, beyond the scale, to see my progress for myself, and it was here, in a small thing, that I found justification for all of my hard work so far. I pulled my late grandmothers ring out of my jewelry box, one that I’ve not been able to wear for a while, and slid it onto my finger. Yes, it was a little snug, but it went on and came back off again.

I guess my point here is that while anyone in my same position, wanting and waiting for a change, don’t overlook the small successes in the shadows of the bigger ones that haven’t fully happened yet. Give yourself time, and keep walking those forward steps, because every one is one closer to your goal.

#ImNoAngel

I had a dream the other night, one that had the sleeping me feeling so light and joyous, so much so that after I woke and cleared the cobwebs from my brain, I was still feeling the lingering happiness from it. I remember smiling as I swung my legs out of bed, my feet hitting the floor before starting my morning. I don’t know if anyone else has ever experienced a dream as completely as I did that night? I can only hope that you have, or will.

What was the dream? (It’s going to sound very narcissistic, but I promise its not!) I was, in my dream, my minds eye, so happy and thrilled with the look, share, and contours of my body, but most especially my stomach. The dream me had a flatter stomach, shapely thighs, and a waist that curved the way it’s supposed to.

After my feet hit the floor, still riding on that sleep high, I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light, looking at myself critically. The difference was, this time I was more accepting of myself. Was this a result of the dream? Or was it a result of a challenge that a friend gives me every once in a while while we are at lunch, having me name one thing I love about myself that day? Or was it me finally listening to my own words that I share with others, trying to get them to change their way of thinking? I don’t know. Was I happy with my body when I looked in the mirror that morning? No, not 100%. I know I have room for improvement, but its nice to not be as repulsed as I once was. I am still a work in progress.

Then this morning, checking my email before crawling out of bed to start my day, there was an email from Lane Bryant with their new campaign, #ImNoAngel, designed to represent the beautiful, amazing, real, average woman whose size falls in the spectrum larger than a 10. The #ImNoAngel message was beautiful put:

Some say

That sexy is defined

In just one way

But I say

It’s how I feel

It’s who I am

I’m all woman

A symbol of confidence

Who writes her own rules

And sometimes breaks them too

I’m beautiful

From my soul out to my skin

Loving every part of me

No matter what I’m in

I’m a woman

Unique and complete

I break the mold

Throw out the old

I’m all kinds of sexy

Movin’ On

Sometimes I wonder if Julie Andrews was right when,  from high atop a mountaintop in Austria, arms spread wide, she sings, “Climb every mountain, search high and low, follow every by way, every path you know… ”

I’ve talked in past blogs (I think) that a lot of life is based on perspective. A good friend of mine was advised to try and change perspective instead of letting things bother them so much. And they tried to, succeeding more often than not, but it seemed that finally the ability to change perspective just gets to be too much, that there are nor other options. No other glasses to look through. No kaleidoscope to peer through in hopes of seeing something -anything- better than it is.

You’ve lived on this mountain, trying everything to see better. You keep climbing up it, fighting battles, weathering all types of storms along the way. You either make it to the top, or you just know that that climb is too difficult.  Sometimes when you get to that point, at least to my way of thinking, its time to take drastic changes. If you don’t like the view that you have where you’re standing at, maybe its time to move to a new mountain.

You have the ability to change what you see, and how you see it. If you’re not happy, your friends will try their damnedest to cheer you up, but more often than not, the change, or choice, to be happy resides in you.  Is it easy? Nope. Is it scary? Hell, yes. Are you with taking the chance on? Absolutely. Go for it!7b7440cc3ac22a93fc7fbd164437f060

Masks II

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I’m a coward. Oh, I’m full of big talk when other people need my help, ask my opinion, or just need a good shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen, but when it comes to letting people know me? Not the top layer, but the real me that lies deep below the surface? Oh, no, I can’t let people get to know the real me. What will they think? Will they like this me? Hell, most of the time I don’t like that me, why would I ever think someone else would? I keep her hidden under so many masks that make up small parts of me…

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I know that the different masks that I hide behind are all parts of me, little snippets that I share here and there when I am finally comfortable enough with someone to let them in. I have a mask that I wear for my family, it’s one that is supposed to remain strong, that hides the fears and sorrows that I don’t want to share. This mask is made of a thick clay. It has survived so much, but like anything else, with time it has begun to crack, and I fear what will happen if it one day falls apart.

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Another mask that I wear, one that more people are getting to see and know, is my mask of creativity. Again, those damn insecurities about my writing, my singing, my expressionism, they hide behind a mask that is thin, like fine china, where you can see the light shining through it. It wouldn’t take much to break that one.

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The top most mask is the one I share with everyone. Only a select few get beneath this one. It is my shield. My line of defense against everything that comes at me. It holds truths about me, but it guards so many more. 9d31cb97bb2b71021afba95b798e41b2

How do I decide who to share the truth with? Oddly enough, the anonymity of this blog has been the most telling and revealing of the real, raw me there is. Its in writing this that I am trying to love myself. I remember writing enough blog post about masks over a year ago, and when I was rereading it just now, its odd to see how little has changed, and what masks I still hide behind. You can read that earlier post here. I try to face the darkness that hides in me, facing it dead on , and sharing it.

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