i ain't lost - just wandering

I started my weight loss journey with one thought in mind. And that thought was that I would make no excuses.

I did well with no excuses for a few months. There were morning workouts and everyday afternoon workouts in the pool. I tracked almost every morsel of food that I put into my mouth. I weighed myself weeklydaily and saw a consistent (slow) loss.

I struggled through some of the first months, but I still did something almost every day. There were days when I ate more than I should have, as well as things I shouldn't have, but I continued to track the calories.

I saw a stall in my weight. I found it more difficult to wake up in the morning. I stopped having someone to meet at the gym. And then I stopped going to the gym in the morning. I stopped tracking what I ate. And I started making excuses.

For the past several weeks, I realized that the excuses were getting out of hand. Every night, I set my alarm, and every morning, I woke up with the alarm but made the choice to reset the alarm and fall back into a not so very restful sleep. And every day, I regretted the choice and promised myself that I would wake up the next morning for a workout.

My excuses were vast. No one to go work out with. Dogs who wanted to cuddle in the morning. A late night the day before. The fact that I could go work out after work or during lunch. Needing a break. Letting my muscles rest.

In moderation, those things are good. There does need to be rest. Some mornings it is okay to feed my soul by cuddling with the dogs instead of lifting weights and sweating through my sports bra. But when the reasons for not working out overpower the number of workouts in a week, there is a problem.

I saw the problem, but I didn't see a solution. I wanted motivation that just wasn't coming. I also wanted it to be easy, but it wasn't easy. It was really hard.

But that's the point. If exercise and weight loss were easy, then no one would sit on the couch and contemplate heading into the gym instead of actually heading into the gym. Because it's hard, a person has to make a daily choice to exercise and an hourly choice to eat well and eat for the right reasons.

Armed with a week off work, a pair of new shoes, and a new heart rate monitor, I am back into the game of making no more excuses.

It started on Friday. I left for the gym and concentrated through a 30-minute circuit work-out. And then, on Saturday, I dropped my husband off at the golf course and then made my way to the gym. A little over an hour later, I was sweaty and had burned off almost 600 calories. I felt invigorated and excited to be back at the gym. Sunday morning came, and I promised myself I would make it to the gym that day - whether in the early hours of the day or later in the day.

It didn't happen this morning, and when the afternoon rolled around, the skies continued to drop several inches of rain and partially flood the roadways. The easy thing would have been to said it wasn't safe to drive. The easy thing would have been to change into a sweatshirt and cuddle up on the couch. But I didn't want to do the easy thing.

So I started by putting my shorts and tee-shirt on. Then I slipped my feet into my new shoes and jogged out into the rain. I took the drive slowly, but I made it to the gym. Nothing was going to hold me back.

The heart rate monitor I received tracks my workouts. It also suggests how many hours a week I should spend exercising in order to lose weight,  and it informs me of what "zone" I am in as well as how much time I need to spend in each zone every week to meet my goals. It's like a personal trainer but without all the yelling.

I wore it on Saturday, and I wore it on Sunday. And already I don't know what I did without it. Seeing the number of calories I've burned as well as knowing what my average heart rate is inspires me and makes me want to push myself more. I'm able to let go of the handrail on the treadmill and actually run for part of my cardio work out.

Now, I want to make a workout plan and stick to it. Now, I am excited for pressing the "train" button on my heart rate monitor and then pushing myself to run for a whole minute and then walk and then run again for a whole minute. I lose seeing my heart rate get above 158 and knowing that I did it on my own without someone pushing me and forcing me to work off the pounds.

And then, when I sit down to eat, I want to make better choices. I don't want to eat something greasy and fried just for the sake of eating something greasy and fried. There are moments when I will make the decision to have pizza for dinner, and those moments are okay as long as they are just moments and not every single day of the week happenings.

So what is my plan? I want to work out once every day for the next few weeks. But if a work out doesn't happen one day, I want to be okay with that. And I want to work out for the sake of working out - not to make up for the poor choices I made earlier in the day (as I've had a tendency to do). I know that food plays just as much, if nor more of, a role as exercise does. But I also know that the more I exercise the better I will eat. So I will start with time spent in the gym, and I will finish with better choices in the kitchen.

My exercise plan is as follows:

Is it ambitious? Yes. Impossible? No.

This time it is up to me. There will be no one to meet at the gym in the mornings. No one to decide when I complete each work out. No one except for me. And as much as I want that assistance, that accountability, I know that this journey is a solo journey and every decision comes down to me.

I'll either succeed because of my hard work and determination. Or I will fail. No one else can make me do it. And while it's a difficult realization to come to, I'm excited that no one else will be able to take credit for my success.

(title from "hometown glory" by adele)

 

everything and no less

Several months ago, my mother-in-law handed me the book So Long Insecurity: You've Been a Bad Friend To Us by Beth Moore. She said the book struck her and that many of the words impacted her. Having been a reader of Beth Moore's for years, I was excited to get my hands on the book and dive into the words.

At first, I read quickly. Nodding my head when appropriate and marking pages. But then life got busy, and I stepped back from the book. (I say it was because life got busy but really I think it's because the book dealt with many of my own "heart issues" and I needed a break from it.)

I recently picked the book back up and started reading right where I left off. I haven't finished it yet, but I am getting there.

I'm soaking in the words. I'm allowing them to speak truth to me. I'm healing from the pain my own insecurities have caused me. I'm reminding myself that I have no reason to be insecure.

My mother-in-law was also the one to introduce me to Working It Out by Abby Rike. I think my mother-in-law has intuition when it comes to knowing what I need to read and when. I also think know that it is no coincidence that I'm reading both of these books at the same time.

Even though Working It Out is meant to be inspiring, I also find it daunting. In so many ways, it makes me feel insecure about my own life and my own journey. Because if Abby Rike can lose the weight and move (somewhat) forward with her life after losing her husband and two children all at once, why am I struggling? It's the same thing with shows about weight loss and renovations to homes for deserving families. The story also revolves around people who are doing amazing things despite the odds stacked against them.

I am always inspired by these stories. But I am also always left feeling like I am lacking in so many ways. Like my life doesn't come anywhere close to measuring up. Like I have no reason to be frustrated or upset or tired. Like I need to get over all these small struggles because so many people are facing so much more.

And while it's good for me to recognize that I can do more with my life, it's not good for that recognition to turn into comparisons that lead to feeling insecure.

In So Long Insecurity: You've Been a Bad Friend to Us, Beth Moore shares a story about a girl who initially lied about her testimony because she felt like her real testimony was lacking in some way. Comparing herself to others, she decided that as her life had had no "real" adversity that she needed to create "adversity." So she created a story about how she lives the life of a stripper (I believe) before being saved and changing everything about herself. Eventually, she told the truth. But before she told the truth, she made that decision to lie. All because she felt like she was lacking.

It's something I so sensitive to right now. It's a struggle I have. I can compare myself to everyone around me, but at the end of the day, comparisons mean nothing at all because my life is completely different - and for a reason - from someone else's life.

I try to be careful about what I share here. I limit talk of dieting and even on the exact exercises I complete. Because I'm afraid I might be judged for doing too little. Or of not trying hard enough. But also because I am afraid someone else might judge themselves in comparison to me. And that is the very last thing I want for anyone.

Being alive is hard enough. And I think, in many ways, being female makes it even more difficult (though I realize men have their own struggles to contend with). But to add into that moving from one phase of your life and into a newer and healthier phase? It's almost impossible.

But it isn't fully impossible. If you do the work. If you continue to move forward. If you never give up. Then it can happen.

But for all of that to happen, there needs to be no more comparison. This is where I am today. I'm listening to other's stories. I'm finding pieces of myself in their story. I'm seeing that if they can do it then so can I. And that is as far as I am letting it go. I stop myself before I have a chance to think about how they are so much better (smarter/thinner/healthier/more committed/etc.) than I am. I stop myself before I think about how I have nothing further to bring that someone else hasn't already brought. I do not allow myself to think that it's not worth sharing my story because it is nowhere near as inspiration as someone else's.

What would have happened if someone else had thought? What if people had allowed the comparisons to stop them from every moving forward? I can't say for sure, but I think the world would be a much dimmer place.

I know it's easier to compare yourself to others. I can so easily point out the positives in someone else, but turning around and looking at myself makes me feel like such a phony - like all I am doing is trying to make myself feel better. And while I think there are some people who make too much of themselves, I know that's not what I am doing in the situation. What I am doing is convincing myself that I too can be healthy, that I too can run on the treadmill with an incline, that I too can continuously increase the amount of weight I lift.

My story might not be as inspiring as someone else's. I might not be rising from the same amount of ashes as someone else. I might not have as many obstacles to overcome. But my story is just that - my story. Just like your story is your story.

And every story deserves to be told without comparison.

(title from "take it all" by adele)

the wonders of my world

Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?

That quote came to mind last Saturday, and it has remained at the forefront of my mind since. It's a thought I am wrestling with and wondering about.

I've always wanted to fit in. And sometimes I did. Other times, I didn't. Eventually my desire to fit in turned into not caring. I decided that since I would never fit in, I just didn't care at all. Not about myself or what others thought. It started in junior high and carried through to the remainder of my life.

There were moments of doing everything I could to fit in. I would say that I didn't care, but deep down, I did. I cared too much about what others thought. And it led me on a path that I wish I had never taken - a path of rejection and heartbreak and frustration.

I can point to several different periods of time that took me from being carefree to worrying over what others thought then to not carrying about anything and back to worrying over what others thought. Some of the periods of time I had control over. Others I did not.

I was born with ABS (amniotic band syndrome). It was seen in my hands. My left hand had webbing between the fingers, not fully formed fingers, and a missing nail on my ring finger. On my right hand, my middle finger is missing a nail.

At the age of 26, no one really notices. At the age of 26, I recognize that it doesn't really matter and that others have it worse than me. But when I was going to school on the first day of kindergarten and then first grade and onwards, it mattered more than anything. Because in a world where all you want is to fit in, I stood out without trying.

I was born to stand out. Knitted together in my mother's womb, I was designed to be the way I am - missing fingernails and all.

And I'm accepting that fact. More than that, though, I am learning to love the differences and to appreciate the beauty in them. I am also learning to love who I am and to put my faith and trust on who I was created to be and not what the world created me to be.

It's been a long journey to get to a point where I can even consider the fact that I want to stand out. And I am sure I have farther to go in the journey before I am completely comfortable with standing out.

But I am getting there.

And I think for the first time in a long while I am piecing myself back together. Or rather God is helping me to piece myself back together. I was never good at puzzles without a picture to compare to, and right now, that's what I am. There have been glimpses of myself, yes, but of the whole self... that is something I am currently seeking.

It hit me this weekend that I was on the journey to figuring it out. Not just who I am on the inside but how that will reflect on the outside.

Everything started on Saturday with a trip to the eye doctor and a new prescription for contacts. In recent months, I hid behind glasses, but I decided, finally, that I was ready to stop hiding and got contacts. Then I went to Target in search of sunglasses and purchased a pair of bright yellow aviator sunglasses (if they don't make me stand out, I don't know what would.)

And finally, it ended with a trip to Old Navy.

This is hard to admit, but I promised myself that I would be honest with this journey so I won't hold back. The last time I actually shopped at Old Navy and tried clothes on actually expecting them to fit? I don't remember when it was. And I honestly expected the same to occur during this shopping trip.

I loaded myself with dresses of the XXL size. I picked a few that were XL but not many as I didn't expect there to be a need for any size other than the largest. And much to my surprise (and excitement), the XXL fell off of me. Even some of the XL dresses were a bit too big in places. But I found one. A dress from Old Navy that wasn't the biggest size in the store. So I bought it.

I said the dress was brought to me by 19 pounds lost. And on Saturday, it might have been, but as of 12:00pm today, the dress was brought to me by 20.4 pounds lost. I am officially over one-fifth of the way to my goal of losing 100 pounds.

And I am starting to be okay with standing out. I am starting to be okay with putting together the puzzle that is myself and figure out who the real me is underneath the layers I once hid from.

So why was I trying so hard to fit in when I was born to stand out? I don't know, but I do know that from now on I am okay with standing out.

(title from "hometown glory" by adele)

i build myself up and fly around in circles

picture found here.

I heard back from my doctor's office late yesterday afternoon. The first thing they told me was that no tumors or masses were seen in my CT Scan. I let out a sigh of relief. I hadn't truly thought about the possibility of tumors or cancer or anything of the sort. I knew it was always a distant possibility, but I didn't entertain it. What a relief to know that I would not have to wonder any longer.

The next thing they said was that my liver was enlarged. They aren't sure what is causing the enlargement. It could be a variety of things from diet to not enough exercise to some sort of disease. I'll be referred to yet another specialist and have yet another co-pay. But at least I know something is off.

I don't want to be sick. I dislike doctors. Needles and I also do not get along; I blame my veins which like to hide and move when being poked and prodded.

But still. I haven't felt well in close to three months. And I want to know why. I want to know what I can do to better myself, and one of my biggest fears was that I would be told that, according to bloodwork and ultrasounds and CT Scans, nothing was wrong.

So I am moving towards physical recovery.

As far as everything else, I'm doing my best to let go. It's a long process and a difficult one. I do not do well when I am not in control. I do not like it when nothing seems to go according to plan. And sometimes (maybe a lot of the time) I lose it. My sense of security and my hold on my emotions. It all disappears.

So now, I am trying to not hold so tightly. I've talked about letting go so much, and so often, I think I have let go. Only to find that something else goes off track which causes me to again want and crave that control. But I am not in control. I have to remember that. As difficult as it is.

My hope for this weekend is to relax and find some sort of balance. My house is clean (other than laundry) compliments of my husband. I have no plans with friends, and I am looking forward to some solitude while my husband attends a bachelor party on Saturday. I am hoping to plant my feet firmly back in God and remind myself that I will keep moving forward even if it feels like I am only moving backward.

(title from "chasing pavements" by adele)