I have the mindset, whether right or wrong, that the weight issue is the one that defines all other facets of my life. I feel like a failure that I’ve let it get so far and have yet, despite numerous attempts, been able to conquer it.
So that permeates everything else in that I believe there’s no way I can accomplish *anything* great. Not that I can accomplish stuff… that much I know I can do. I’ve raised two amazing kids, I have a wonderful marriage, I’ve written my ass off for a decade solid and completed a pretty significant body of work.
I’m an accomplished woman, and I recognize and honor that.
Or maybe I don’t. Maybe I let that weight issue loom over me like a huge paper dragon that says I deserve to be right where I am… just shy of becoming all I could be.
So it’s gotta go. And with it go all the excuses and the opportunity for self-pity.
I am capable of making drastic change. It isn’t beyond me. The reason I haven’t done it before is because I needed to carry the extra weight as my own cross to bear. I can’t truly let go of the things that got me to this place as long as I’m carrying the extra weight… the symbol of what I have settled for.
But if there is one thing I know for certain, I am strong…. and that’s not a conditional thing that just gets me through the rough times. The strength I had to get through all the crap is the strength it requires to let it go and move on. (Thank you, Tyler Perry.)
I am proud of that strength. I know that without it I couldn’t have made it this far. To raise a family takes an enormous amount of strength and tenacity – another trait I know I possess.
When I want something I never give up until I get it. Up till now that hasn’t always been a good thing, since some of the things I’ve wanted haven’t been good for me. But I know that if I really want something bad enough, there’s no stopping me. I’m a powerhouse that knows how to get it done.
The problem thus far was I didn’t really want it. Working through the different motivations that have blown up in my face I realized the reason I have failed is I’ve made the journey about everything else. I’ve made it about other people, about fitting in… even about “not dying.”
But never has it been about just getting it done. The end of the journey will be when I can look in the mirror and know I’ve faced my dragon head-on and mastered it. This eating disorder will likely hang over my head for a lifetime, maybe it’s time I stop worrying about slaying it and just learn how to accept this part of myself and amend my life accordingly.
I don’t have to hate this major part of myself to conquer it. For better or worse I had these experiences for a reason. And God knows I’ve learned a lot from it.
Now it’s time for new experiences; namely the part where I can choose health and success over self-destruction and self-pity.
It’s going to take an enormous amount of strength to make these changes and wrestle these demons back under control.
Fortunately, I’m strong enough to do it. Things may be tough right now, but I’m a tough gal. I’ve been through worse. This is a
piece of cake. This is a walk in the park.
I’m writing a new book now – one that is within the skin I’m living in. I expect the process to be as rewarding/frustrating/exhausting/exhilarating/time-consuming/worthwhile as any book I’ve written “for real.” It’s going to be written one word at a time just like any screenplay I’ve completed.
Each hour is a word, each day a page.
I can do this for no other reason than I want to prove it to myself I can.
This is my motivation. Feel free to remind me of it when I hit any second-act dead ends.
My food diary courtesy of Sparkpeople.com.