The Purge

I sat down this morning wanting to do another blog post.  I have a lot that I feel the need to put out there so that I can truly begin this journey.  I am excited about the direction I am taking in my life, but I feel the need to purge myself of some issues of my past so that I can really move on.  Because of all this in my head I was having trouble focusing my thoughts.  I didn’t want to put out an extremely long post that people wouldn’t finish…but maybe that is what I have to do.

My struggle has to do with the fact that I love the direction I am headed, but today I feel overwhelmed by my disgust at my current state.  Let me explain with a few stories that when all put together may help explain my current condition.  And once again I hope you will stick with me as I mull this over, because this could be REALLY long…

Story 1:

I have 3 beautiful children.  I love them dearly; I hate what motherhood has done to my body.  I put on 50 pounds with my first pregnancy.  I had never dreamed that I could weigh over 200 lbs.  I was a new mom and it didn’t bother me too much.  I was young and optimistic about getting that weight off.  I was able to drop below the 200’s for a while, but I slowly crept my way back up there. 

I was in the planning stages of a major weight loss regime when I found out I was pregnant with my second.  Her pregnancy was kind of a downer, unfortunately.  Most people in my ward didn’t realize I was pregnant until I was 6-7 months along, and some were still asking my husband (they didn’t confront me anymore) at 8-9 months preggers.  I am pleased to say I was able to keep my weight gain to 20-25 lbs.  The problem was that I left the hospital weighing THE EXACT SAME as I did when I went in.  I mean who has an 8 lb baby (plus water and placenta) and walks out of the hospital not losing ANY WEIGHT?  Low point I tell you.

I had almost 5 years to lose that weight before having my next baby, didn’t happen.  At one point I had gotten down to 190!  But it came back…with my third pregnancy I am pleased to say that I never did hit 250 lbs, but I was dangerously close.  Why am I telling you this?  Because I need to say that I am like many mothers and have dreams of being back to my before baby weight, but I am also a mother that tends to put the needs of my family ahead of my quest for a thinner me.

Story 2:

Next, I want to tell you an amazing story about my husband.  Three springs ago the two of us were one of those happy overweight couples.  I knew I was on the heavier side of the scale but I thought Brad only had an extra 20 lbs, maybe, but I didn’t see him as fat.  He, however, wanted to lose weight and he searched to find a way that would work for him.  Over the course of about 4 months he lost a total of 70 lbs! (Which, by the way, is 20 lbs more than we thought he could to lose.)  He changed the way he ate and he got really serious into cycling.  Even more amazing than losing all the weight is that he has kept it off all this time.  (I should also add that he accomplished all this while traveling 2-4 days every week.)  His triumph spurred me to try and get focused on my own weight loss.  I have tried more diets and things these past few years than I have in my entire life.  I was originally able to lose about 40 lbs, which is awesome, but lately I have put most of it back on.

Story 3:

Last night I had a wonderful evening with my family going to see Christmas lights.  We went to a few places that we knew had big displays.  I LOVE Christmas lights.  They seem to be one of my favorite things of the season because of the way that they make the dark street come to life.  But even though it was a magical evening, I was inwardly unhappy.  See just before starting the night I needed to go to my closet and change my clothes.  We were going to be outside for part of the night so despite the warm day, nights have gotten cooler here in Arizona (finally J) meaning pants and a long sleeve shirt.  When I grabbed a shirt that I wore comfortably last winter it was short and tight.  Disappointment coursed through me because I had previously discovered that I only have two pair of pants that fit me (and they are almost too small).  Now I realize that nothing of the winter clothes I wore last year fit me right.  I can wear them, but they are uncomfortably tight.

Story 4:

I am not sure what has happened over the past 5 years, but I seem to have a hard time making any kind of goal and keeping it.  I used to be that person that made a long list everyday and would work tirelessly to complete it.  I wasn’t one of those that got discouraged when I didn’t finish my list; I got spurred on to be better.  I had lists and lists of goals and ideals I was headed for.  But the more the years have past the harder it has been for me to make those lists.  The last few years I have almost completely given up on it.  I almost feel like if I write a goal down I am just setting myself up for failure.  I mean I can’t even keep my kitchen clean for a week when that is the only thing I try to do in a day, how am I going to create a goal and accomplish it?

What happens when you put all these together?  Someone that is out of her mind if she thinks she can become an ironwoman, that’s what.  But the crazy thing is I feel like by starting this blog and making myself accountable, I will.  Even if no one else EVER reads it I feel that if I can chart my journey, the good and the bad, I will someday cross that finish line.

The thing that got me so disgusted with my current place in life is a culmination of all the above reminiscing.  I obviously hate my body and can’t come to grips that I am fat.  Though I try desperately not to be I am insanely jealous of my husband, why can’t I lose 70 pounds practically overnight?  And lets face it I have become lazy, lazy, LAZY!

I cried today when I realized the reality of the situation, this is going to take time (lots of time), it is going to take planning (TONS), it will require work (get OFF that bottom fool), and most of all, patience.  I am SO not a patient person.  Some might disagree, but I fake it real good.

When I was crying to my dear sweet Bradley (yup I cried like a baby today) he reminded me of an experience I had that made me cry more.  When I was 12 I had an opportunity to go on a Pioneer Trek.  As youth we were put into families of about 16-20 kids, packed our clothes and sleeping bags into a handcart as well as the food and water we would need for the week and we were put to the task of pulling the cart along a dirt trail.  We were not told how long we would be walking and for the entire afternoon we were not given rest, food or water.  About an hour or so before dusk we stopped in a nice shady meadow in the bottom of a valley.  Our Ma’s and Pa’s left us for a bit while we rested up and goofed off.  When they came back we got a big drink of water and were then told that we were not allowed to talk.  They wanted us to just think about the experience, we were not told how long we needed to stay silent.  After a few minutes of walking Ma and Pa began pulling our “brothers” aside and as they did each one was told they couldn’t help us girls pull the cart anymore.  When they were all off and walking silently beside us the trail began to take us up a very steep sustained hill out of the valley.  Not only was the road steep it was also extremely rocky.  These would have been difficult conditions for our whole family to handle, but it was just us girls.  I have to tell you that our brothers were beside themselves, wanting to help but being obedient and not pulling.  They did find large sticks to put behind the wheels to help prevent us from going backwards, which at times we were doing.  They ran to who-knows-where to find water to soak their bandanas in so they could put the cool cloth on our sweaty foreheads.  Even with this encouragement the “women’s pull” was excruciating.  I was crying.  Every time I looked up that hill I felt we had made no progress.  I got to a point that I wanted to let go of the rope and pass out.  Just as I felt that I heard my sister next to me cry out softly, “Father, we can’t do it anymore, please help us.”  As soon as she finished whispering I realized that I didn’t hurt anymore.  I was moving but I didn’t feel the pain.  The awareness that God had stepped in and was pulling for us was so powerful, and so real.

When I think about that experience I realize I am deep in the throws of a one-woman pull right now.  I have a destination at the top of that hill that will mean ultimate triumph, but first I have to go through the pain and sweat and tears.  The road is steep and rough and LONG, but once again it will be worth it.

I want to thank those of you who have made it to the bottom of this post.  I greatly appreciate it.  I hope this purge of my struggles will allow me to move forward and to be patient as I do so.