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Are You Guilty of People Shaming?

10/28/2014

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If you missed the Facebook fad that passed several months ago surrounding dog shaming, I am sorry.  There were some genuinely funny slideshows of some very mischievous dogs being called out for their bad behavior.  Among my favorites were a forlorn looking pit bull next to a pair of tattered leather knee boots with a sign around it’s neck that said, “PETA made me do it” and one of a tiny dog with a decapitated Dora doll that said, “I killed the Explorer.”

Dog shaming is funny but sometimes I feel like I am the one walking around with a sign around my neck.  And people shaming is not quite as amusing.  Some days I feel like the sign around my neck says, “I am fat because I am lazy.”  Other days it may have nothing to do with weight.  It may say, “I am a bad mom” or “I don’t love people the way I should.”   Maybe yours says, “I am a liar” or “I mess everything up.”
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There are a million reasons why I am happy that I grew up in the church, so please don’t take this as a church bashing post, but man - sometimes I feel like we, in our misguided views of what it means to be holy, make shame one of the unspoken requirements to be a Christian.

We aren’t evangelizing like we should.
We don’t’ read our Bibles like we should.
We don’t pray as often or as fervently as we should.
We are dirty sinners, whose works, like filthy rags are worthless before God.

I once sat with a gospel preacher who said that “a public sin requires a public confession” (that phrase cannot be found in the Bible by the way).  When asked what the purpose of that public confession was, he said that the person who was sinning needed to feel the weight and the shame of their actions as a deterrent to doing it again.  And according to him, your sins could not be forgiven by God unless you confessed to everyone what you had done to “bring shame and reproach on the church” (again…not found anywhere in scripture).

Is there a place for Godly sorrow that produces repentance?  Absolutely. (2 Corinthians 7:10)  Is there a time when we should have our conscience pricked?  Yes!  (Acts 2:37) And is there a premise in the Bible that says we should try to restore our spiritual family to holiness when they are in sin?  Of course. (Matthew 18:15).  But we have never been instructed to cause another person to feel shame.

Growing up in a culture of shame affects you in a lot of ways.  I’ve noticed that I am very quick to condemn myself and point out the areas where I need improvement.  On the flip side it makes me feel prideful and arrogant to admit that I am good at something or have done something well.  That combination is the perfect breeding ground for discouragement and for having a feeling of hopelessness.  And that is exactly how Satan wants it to be.  When he has you convinced that you are already defeated, why even try?

Well we should try because all of that “not good enough’ stuff is a lie.  When you are trying your best to follow Jesus, God promises that your best is and will be good enough.  Not because we are good in and of ourselves, but because Jesus died so that we can be saved despite our faults.

Once we can recognize our worth, only then can we realize our full potential.  And not doing that is the only thing that we should be ashamed of.
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Survivor's Guilt

10/20/2014

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Back in the day when I was living in Bowling Green, KY my friend’s dad ran an illegal gambling house in a seedy part of town.  On this particular street, on one side you had old duplexes and warehouses that were mostly boarded up.  Spray painted graffiti and yellow notices that the buildings had been condemned were pretty much the only color seen on the mostly cinder block buildings.  On the other side of the street was a dilapidated chain link fence that was halfheartedly keeping people out of an unused parking lot that had weeds growing out of all of it’s cracks.  The chain was cut open in so many places that it’s only real purpose was to make the street look even junkier than it already did.  You might see a person here or there sitting on the stoop nodding off because of whatever drug they were using.  You could maybe find an old woman pushing a grocery cart full of scrap metal down the sidewalk or randomly shaking the fence, but for the most part you didn’t see cars or people around.  Unless it was night time and it was the weekend.

“The Dice House” is what we referred to it as.  On Friday and Saturday nights it brought in enough business that cars would line the street on both sides.  And the cars weren't all broken down and hooptie either.  It was normal to see anything from new sports cars, luxury sedan’s, and big SUV’s with expensive rims to rusted out old bicycles that people tied with ropes to the side of the porch.

Once you parked, you  walked up to the 2-story duplex at the end of the street.  The unit on the left side was abandoned but the one right was where all of the action was.  Outside you mostly had people standing around talking, laughing, and having what appeared to be a good time.  You might occasionally see a woman and a man bargaining on a price for her services and see them disappear into a car or into the side alley.  Once or twice I saw a fight.  But usually you just walked past the people and headed up the wooden steps to the entrance on the second floor.

Once you walked in, it was pretty much what you think it would be like.  It was filled with smoke (both from cigarettes and from whatever else was being smoked).  The lights were all just exposed bulbs and wiring ran down most of the walls. Right inside the door was a man with a gun in his pants sitting at a table charging a small fee to get in.  This was mainly to dissuade people from just cluttering up the place when they had no intentions of playing.  He’d also let everyone know that there were cans of beer in the fridge for sale for $3 a piece.  (This is the reason for the warnings marked “not labeled for individual resale”).  It was a 2 bedroom duplex.  The kitchen just housed the man at the table and the fridge.  No stove, and not even a kitchen sink.  One bedroom had nothing in it but a mattress on the floor.  This room was off limits unless you got permission from “Dad.”  It was mainly used for women who were in desperate need of a fix to make some quick cash, and from what I remember, they had enough customers that there was a time limit on the room.  The other bedroom had a barber’s chair and a small table.  I never saw anyone use it but it was there.  That one is still a mystery to me.  The living room had no furniture other than a long dining table with about ten chairs around it, which is where people would play dice.  There were usually 1-2 rows of people behind each chair, waiting for their turn to get in and play.  And as for the bathroom - well my friend told me that if I needed to go, he would take me somewhere else.  I never asked questions.

The class of people the dice house brought in was very diverse.  There were black people, white people, and Hispanic people. There were welfare moms and professional women.  I saw both bring toddlers in to that nasty place.  There were grandparents that wore oxygen and young boys who couldn't have been more than 14.  They were all so different, but at the core, they were all very much the same.  And it was that sameness that my friend and his dad openly and happily took advantage of.  They had quite the system worked out.   Essentially, Dad was charging drunks, addicts, and junkies to get in, charging them to play (win or lose) and then taking a cut of the winnings.  That’s where my friend came in.  Almost all of the people who came to play were looking to win money for drugs - and he was a dealer.  It was all very convenient.  At the end of the night he and his dad put all of the money into a pot.  They paid out the door man and the man who ran the dice game and split the rest.  I never heard an exact amount but just from watching them count it out, every weekend they got more cash in hand than I could fathom.

Once as we were leaving for the night, a man approached us.  He was twitchy and scratching - clearly in desperate need of a fix.  We laughed at him as my friend took this man’s money and then threw a crack rock across the fence, into the dark parking lot.  And without a word or a complaint, he took off scrambling, literally on his knees, looking for it.

Writing all of this out honestly makes me feel nauseous.  Sometimes I think about the things that I participated in and even helped facilitate and feel extreme survivor‘s guilt.  At the time I had no clue. No clue as to the lives that were being ruined.  I had no clue how close I was to my own life being ruined.  I helped take money at the dice house.  I made deliveries for my friend on occasion.  I was even paid at times.  The person I am now would have seen the danger in even being in a place like that.  Had I gone in anyway, I would have helped those toddlers.  I would not have been happy to watch people who had been potentially clean for months or years fall off the wagon for the sake of a few dollars.  I would reach out to the women who were giving their bodies away to nasty, toothless men instead of looking down at them and pretending like I didn't know what was going on.  And I certainly would not find humor in watching a man humiliate himself for a $10 fix.

So when did it all change?  Well, I got pulled over by a cop when I was high.  As it so happened, the cop was the same one that my friend’s brother had pistol whipped and ran away from successfully a few months earlier.  In my drugged paranoia, I just knew he was going to question me about it.  I had an expired license, expired tags, and no car insurance.  I had a substantial amount of marijuana in my trunk that I was taking to drop off at a local hotel to a man I had never met.  The cop asked me where I was headed and just let me go.  To this day I don’t know what his reason for pulling me over was.  But the next day I was hit with the realization that things had to change because it was no longer a just a cute rebellious phase - I was on the path to destruction.  My way back was not immediate but it is a story in and of itself.  But that will have to wait for another day.

There are people in my life now who are in the throws of addiction and recovery.  People who I love very deeply.  It’s because I know what the environment is like that it is so hard for me to stomach the thought of them choosing to return to it.  But it also hits a nerve because it reminds me that years ago, I was the person who helped put the pipe or needle back in their hand and profited from it.

O.K., I know you folks who are reading because this is a weight loss blog are probably wondering what in the world is going on.  But the tag at the top DOES say shedding emotional, spiritual, and physical weight.  And who are we kidding, all three of them are intricately tied together anyway.  So tonight as I go to bed, I am randomly feeling regretful over the things I have done almost twenty years ago.  But I am also amazingly and deeply grateful that I am not there any more.  I still have issues, but my life is bright and I have a deep joy.  Even during bad times, that heavy darkness is no longer there.

I always pray for the addicts in my life.  Tonight I think I will say a special prayer for the dealers and their naive little friends and that their eyes too would be opened to the things that can bring them deeper fulfillment and joy.
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Worse than Ebola?

10/17/2014

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Since Ebola was discovered forty years ago, worldwide there have been around 9,000 reported cases of people contracting it.  Of those 9,000, approximately 4,500 people have died.  According to a study published by the Journal of the American Medical Association in 2005, obesity related diabetes and cardiovascular disorders kill 300,000 people every year.

If you multiply 300,000 by 40 years, you see that there have been 12 million obesity related deaths in that same period of time (and 12 million is severely low-balling it when you consider that this study only factored in deaths from obesity related diabetes and cardiovascular diseases).

If you contract Ebola,  your chances of living are about  50/50.  Having a Body Mass Index (BMI) of over 30, increases the odds of you lowering your life expectancy by at least five years by 50-100% (the higher  your BMI, the higher the percentages climb and the more years are taken off).

Ebola is scary.  If I knew I had it, I would go to crazy lengths to rid myself of it.  Isolation? Blood transfusions?  Ridiculously expensive treatments?  Yep - sign me up.  But yet many of us not only ignore our obesity problems, we actively and knowingly make choices that make it worse.

In the Bible, Naaman was diagnosed with leprosy…a disease back then that (just like Ebola) was a death sentence and forced you into isolation.  The prophet Elisha told him that if he wanted to be healed he needed to go to the Jordan river and dip himself in it seven times.  Seemed like a fairly easy task, right?  But Naaman was expecting something bigger.  He wanted a great sign, a mighty mission, or an exciting test to accomplish in order to receive his healing.  Initially, he refused to do the annoyingly small and mundane thing he was asked to do.

Aren’t we the same?  Under the right circumstances, we would do just about anything to preserve the lives of ourselves or our loved ones.  Everything except the mundane, boring, and relatively easy things like eating right and exercising.

This was my reality check of the day.
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How to Survive the Opinion Apocolypse

10/15/2014

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I don’t know what the hot buttons are in the testosterone circles these days, but in the world of soccer moms and in the thirty something estrogen pool, there are a few things that you need to know in order to survive.  Forget the zombie apocalypse.  In my personal experiences, the mere act of bringing up certain topics have proven to be much more dangerous than a few flesh eating nuisances.

- Never tell a non-immunizing mom to go get their kid a chicken pox vaccination.
- Never publicly admit that an essential oil, power smoothie, or juice capsule didn’t work for you.
- Never make it known if you co-sleep, cry it out, or cluster feed.  (And if you don’t know what any of those are, to be safe, just never give anyone baby advice.  Ever.)
- Never let it be known if you have found even one redeeming quality in Obama or WalMart.  Be a secret admirer, trust me.

These things are just a given.  Any good card carrying member of the women’s club know that these topics, if not handled with care, can be hazardous to your health.  But there are a few that, in the writing of this blog, I have found to be approaching the same level of ferocity.  I’m not saying you can’t talk about them - I’m just saying to tread lightly.

- Never tell a lifetime member of Weight Watchers that it just didn’t work for you.
- Never admit to a South Beach, Atkins, or Zone Diet follower that your daily carb intake exceeds 100 grams.
- Never tell a Zumba enthusiast that they have no rhythm, a P90x nutball that doing one armed  pushups on a broken arm is a bad idea, or a marathon runner that you don’t like their tennis shoes.

Consider those a gift.  There are more, but I don’t want to scare you.

Advice and opinions are everywhere.  You are going to hear one person say that the ONLY way to go is (fill in the blank) and have an equally sincere and educated person tell you that the exact opposite is the only way to go.  Family, friends, shows on TV, articles on the internet, and even doctors all have differing thoughts on what works and what doesn’t when it comes to YOUR health.

Take it all in, weight it against what feels right to you mentally and with your body, pray for wisdom and discernment surrounding your health and then make forward progress.  The failure to succeed rarely is because we choose the wrong diet plan or exercise program.  Our failure to succeed usually lies in the fact that we lose our determination, energy, and drive.

Find out what personally motivates you and build everything around that.  THAT is the best diet advice I have heard in a long, long time.

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My Goofballs

10/13/2014

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- No gluten.  
- No transfats. 
- No corn syrup.  
- No Red 40. 
- Go Paleo.
- Make sure you give them probiotics.
- If you don't give your toddler enough DHA, their brains won't develop and they will grow up and  not know how to spell or dress  themselves.
- Corn no longer counts as a vegetable and vegetable oil is only used by parents who hate their  children.

Feeding kids is no easy task today.  Between Women’s Day and Pinterest, mealtime has become a huge source of guilt for most of us.  And honestly, it probably should be.  At least for me it should be.  Truth is, there are days that pass when I look back and wonder if my kids had any vegetables at all.  Another day I may wonder the same thing about dairy or fruits.  I know it get it right sometimes, but I also know there are too many days when I substitute convenience for quality.

Did you know that the Burger King kid’s double cheeseburger meal with a small fry and a small soda has 1,100 calories, 52 grams of fat and 1,870 mg. of sodium?  Or did you know that 16 ounces of Sunny D has the same amount of sugar as a dozen Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies?  Yeah, me neither.

Those are my boys up there.  Since they were born, their dad and I have been praying specific prayers for each of them.  We have prayed for Quinton (the older one) that he will grow up to be a leader in whatever it is that he chooses to do and we have prayed that Micah (the mischievous looking one) will be blessed with a great talent that he can use to God’s glory.  I want to be there to see those prayers answered and I want them to live long, happy, and healthy lives.

That picture is going to be the second one I add to my previously mentioned vision board.  They are my motivation for a lot of things, and my desire to adopt a healthier lifestyle is certainly at the top of the “things to do for them” list.

I don’t plan on swearing off restaurants.  In our lifestyle, it’s just not realistic.  But I can teach them that the Bob Evans Smiley Face potatoes have 524 calories as where the home fries have 159.  I am not swearing off all sugar and I can’t promise that they will never see Red 40 or Yellow 6, but I can stop buying Cap’n Crunch and those dreadful Austin snack crackers (which have 2 days worth of transfats in one serving).  I am not signing them up for kiddy marathons, but I can stop acting like exercise is some huge burden that I have to bear.

I want to be a better example to them so that as they grow, they won’t have to deal with this battle like I do.  As their mom, I want to remove as many obstacles in their paths as is humanly possible.  I know I can’t eliminate all of them - but at least in this area I can do my part to equip them in the healthiest way possible.

“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6

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The Man Behind the Vision

10/11/2014

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This is my husband and I when we were dating.  I ran across it today and sat and stared, just thinking about how much we have both changed since then.  As I looked at it, I realized that I struggled with my weight back then and I was probably 150 pounds lighter than I am now.  In this picture we were going to a BBQ and for some reason I needed a shirt to wear.  I probably spilled something on my shirt (which I pretty much do every time I eat).  He had an extra shirt and so I put it on.  I was embarrassed because it fit me tighter than it did him.  Nevermind the fact that there are some obvious, non-weight related reasons as to why (and where) it was tight.

Thinking about that shirt got me thinking about other thoughts I had back then surrounding my weight.  

- I remember wondering if he was actually attracted to me.  
- I wondered if he was embarrassed to introduce me to his friends.  
- I remember being embarrassed when we'd do something sports related and I'd get out of breath    before him (despite the fact that he was very athletic and probably had more stamina than most  people - even the ones who were in shape).  
- I even remember thinking he could do so much better and if I wasn't careful, he was going to wake  up and realize it.

Fast forward to today - eleven happy years, 2 beautiful sons, and 150 pounds later.  My thoughts have changed.

- I know that he loves me and is attracted to me.
- I know that he sees me as a asset to his life and is proud of who I am.
- I feel so comfortable with him that I couldn't care less if he sees me hyperventilating and sweaty.
- And while I still do think that he deserves better, I now think he just deserves a better ME, not        someone else.

Today is my birthday (thanks to my sister Allison for doing the math and proving to me that I am turning 38, not 39).  My goal is that two years from today I will have lost 200 pounds.

In order to help me reach this goal, I am going to make a vision board.  A vision board is exactly what it sounds like.  It's a board or poster where you put pictures, sayings, scriptures, or basically whatever you want to put on it in order to remind you of your goals and your vision.  It is just a physical reminder that helps you to keep your motivation in the front of your mind and provide clarity to the end result.

This picture is going to be the first thing I put on it.  I want to be better for me, but I also want to be better for my husband.

- He deserves someone who is going to be there for him until he is old and gray(er).
- He works hard to keep himself healthy and in shape for me (he pretty much looks exactly the same  as he did then *gag*), and I want to get back to looking and feeling like the woman he married.
- I love him with all my heart and hate to see him upset.  I know that the mental stress I put myself  through about my weight causes him to feel helpless because he wants to make me feel better and he  can't fix it...only I can.
- He loves tennis and I've NEVER played a game with him (unless you count the time he served  towards me and I ran away from the ball that seemed to be coming at me at warp speed).  I want to  be able to go to the park or the gym and actually be able to make it look like we are playing a real  match - not like some guy whizzing balls at a screaming, ducking newbie.

Long story short, I love Alfred.  I love the way that he has loved me for the past twelve years (if you count the time we dated).  He is a one of the major reasons I want to be better.  On the days when I feel like I am not worth the effort, I will look at my new vision board and remember that it's not just about me any more.
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No Pain No Gain is Dumb

10/8/2014

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You can call me a whiny baby if you want to, I don't care.  The whole idea of "no pain no gain" is o.k. if you are talking about a few sore muscles, but I would rather not feel like there are knives stabbing me in the heel after every walk I take.

A few weeks ago I began walking five times a week for thirty minutes each time.  Walking is something I do around my house all day every day so you wouldn't think it'd be that bad, right?  But there was one point about two weeks ago when I had made it about 1/2 a block from my house and was literally in tears because I was already winded, my foot was hurting, and my hips/lower back were tightening up (yes fitness gurus, I did stretch first).

I cried because I was embarrassed and I cried out of frustration.  But I kept walking.  My foot was sore, my hip was sore, I had to stop a few times and twist my torso in strange ways to prevent my back from cramping.  I looked like the crazy fat lady walking down the busiest street in our neighborhood all sweaty and teary, but I make myself keep going.  When I got home I felt a slight sense of accomplishment for pushing through the pain.

Then the next day my body reminded me that I am a complete idiot.  I could not walk without stabbing pain in my hip.  My foot was so sore that even when it was elevated, I could feel my heart beat as it throbbed.  I haven't been able to walk effectively since.

I have plantar fasciitis (inflammation of a ligament in the bottom of your foot).  My hip is sore partially from the overcompensation in my walk due to the plantar fasciitis and partially because my pelvis is misaligned from carrying a 13 pound baby boy in my womb for nine months (yes, my Micah was born at 13 pounds even).  The misaligned pelvis causes back and neck pain and the cycle goes round and round.

Know what can fix all of this?  Losing weight.  Know how you lose weight?  By exercising and eating right.  And therein lies the problem.

So I am done with trying this and that to fix things.  I am enough of a barrier to myself when it comes to weight loss, I don't need more excuses.  Today I made an appointment with my primary care doctor to follow up with some general health concerns.  I made an appointment with a chiropractor to get me back in line.  I made an appointment with a podiatrist to get a cortisone shot for my foot and a prescription for some old lady shoe inserts.  In the next few weeks I plan on sitting down with a good friend who is also a dietitian to get some professional advice and tips.

I do understand that at times, soreness is just a given.  But if you have legitimate medical issues, take care of them before you do more damage.  Being a healthy person means more than just losing weight.  I am trying to learn to look at the big picture.

Hopefully these things will get done and make things just a little bit better.  I really don't want the neighborhood kids to run inside when they seem me coming up their street.
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50 Shades of Gravy

10/8/2014

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Women turn to a lot of things in order to make them feel good after a hard day‘s work.  When it’s all said and done and it’s time to just relax, we offer ourselves all kinds of rewards.  We shop, we sleep, we get pedicures, we have a glass of wine, we binge watch our favorite TV shows on Netflix, we lose hours in reading fictional stories that take us to other places, and if you are in Colorado you sit down and smoke some marijuana.  O.K…maybe not so much in THIS crowd, but you know what I’m saying.

When I am ISO (that means “in search of” mom) a reward for a day well played, I personally turn to food.  There is nothing more relaxing to me than sitting in front of the TV or the computer with some food and just vegging out while I watch an episode of Law and Order or dumb viral videos on YouTube.  It’s like I run, run, run all day and then when the phone stops ringing, the kids are in bed, and my husband falls asleep, I can take off the restricting clothes, put on my pajamas and just CHILL.  And what says “chilling” like some ice cream, chips, or heck - sometimes I may even eat an entire plate of spaghetti.  I’m not saying it’s pretty - but it does happen.  More often than I care to admit.

I’ve never read 50 Shades of Grey but from what I understand, it is about a  woman who is pretty bored with her life until she meets a man who awakens her emotionally via his very dominant and controlling sexual pursuit of her.  She feels dissatisfaction with her life and begins to rely on him to raise her pleasure sensors.  Well take Mr. Grey out and put in mashed potatoes and that’s me.  

And from what I have heard from many of you, I know that I am not alone in this.  Secret eating and eating for a job well done as a reward is very, very common.  And it is also very, very unhealthy.

Part of the reason I wait until after everyone is in bed in order to start eating is because there is nobody around to see.  It’s like it doesn’t count if nobody but me knows.  There have actually been days when I am monitoring and writing down my calories (for my own personal reference mind you) that I have omitted things I’ve eaten in secret, as if the actually never happened.

Like the drug addict who sneaks into the bathroom to shoot up or the lonely housewife who pretends to go to store only to meet a man who is not her husband, whenever you feel the need to hide something, there is usually a reason why.  For me, I hide it because I know that I am eating out of pure compulsion, NOT because I am hungry.  I am searching for something to activate the pleasure sensors in my brain and I have trained myself to do that with food.  And I know it’s not right.  So it has become my dirty little secret.

If I could cut out my secret eating, I am guessing I could omit 500 calories a day from my diet.  Well I have decided to start with something that may be a given to some people but to me is major.  I told my husband that I do this at night and have told him that I am committing to not eating after he goes to bed.  And now I am letting you know.  Because you are my new accountability partner.

Well it’s 9:21 and I’ve got about 45 minutes before the man starts to doze off on the couch.  I better go get my turkey leg and stuffing now while I still can.

(Just kidding…but I AM going to go get a few pretzels and mustard.  And that’s o.k.)
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"CLEAR!"

10/7/2014

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For a while now I've been flatlining.  I'm yelling "CLEAR" because I'm using this blog like the paddles doctors use when trying to shock someone's heart back to life.

Several months back, I made what I thought to be one of my most hardcore and sincere efforts to lose weight.  I avoided the scales for over a month and when I went to the doctor for a weight check expecting a significant loss, I was crushed when I found out I had actually put weight on.  It was the knockout punch.  It hit every wound that I have regarding weight loss.  My lack of belief in myself was validated in that moment.  My motivation was swept out from underneath me in a matter of seconds.  When I saw the number on the scale, I immediately rebuilt walls of protection around my heart, even mentally scolding myself for actually feeling hope that there would be a happy outcome.  I told myself I should have known better.  I had failed again.  I had always failed.  I would continue to fail.  



There were times when I wanted to reconnect with that drive that had previously pushed me forward, but I just couldn't connect.  My inability to emotionally connect with the process just perpetuated my deadness.  The lies built and built until I had gotten to a point where I pushed away all thoughts regarding my health and my weight and just acted like it wasn't an issue. 

My body reminded me that it is an issue.  New issues, aches, and pains forced me to look in the mirror once again.  And I mean that literally.  My level of disgust with myself usually caused me to avert my eyes whenever I saw a mirror that reflected anything but my face.  But this day, several weeks ago, I made myself stop and look.  And as corny and as dumb as I felt doing it, I made myself try to see me how others see me.  Instead of focusing on my flappy arms and hanging belly, I mentally listed things that I know my friends and family love about me.

In the moment, it didn't help at all, but I see now how it started a chain of thinking that has gotten me back to a point where I am at least no longer listless and indifferent.

I've been wanting to start blogging again for a while now.  I've had several people ask what in the world was going on with Stuff Your Faith and my response has consistently been, "I've been meaning to get back to it but just don't know what to write." And honestly, I still don't know what to write.  

So I will just start where I started in the beginning - with being honest.

 - After several ups and downs, I currently weigh more than I did when I started this blog.
 - One of the major things that prevented me from starting to write again is my embarrassment over      the first bullet point.  I almost feel the need to apologize profusely to everyone who has rooted me on    over the past year.  And while I know that apologizing is unnecessary, the urge is still there.
 - It is amazing to me how hard it is to deny your flesh.
 - It is equally amazing to me how much easier it is to control your flesh when you think spiritually.
 - It is amazing to me how easy it is to not think spiritually.

I am not typically one for self promotion, but if you know someone who is in the midst of a lifelong battle with their weight, or someone who has beaten this beast, share me with them.  Not for their sake, but for my own.  I am convinced that the more people I meet (even if it is just online) who can say, "YES! I know what you mean!", the more hope I have.  And right now, that is what I am still clinging too - hope that it will all work out in the end.

Going forward, I plan on continuing to write here in hopes that I will at least have an outlet that will force me into a state of honest self-evaluation.  Please pray for my progress.  My body is not my own anymore and I don't want it to be returned to sender before it's time!
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