I rarely post on the weekends, but that’s always one of the hang-ups for me and beating this thing called weight. It’s not a good time to give up this or that. I need a new year, a new month, a new week, or at least a new day to start fresh. But I have to start right now.
Some of you may remember last year, when I had my best ever “get healthy” kick. It started spontaneously, and the next thing I knew, I was exercising 6 days a week. What started out as yet another I-want-to-do-this-but-don’t-want-to-fail-yet-again, half-hearted kind of thing became something that was working for me.
It lasted for 3 months, and I truly believed I had beat this thing called food addiction and obesity. I lost 22 lbs. I no longer had cravings for sweets. No more struggles with binge eating. No more dreading to exercise. I looked forward to it. In the beginning, I couldn’t run even a tenth of a mile, and by the end of that time, I was jogging a solid mile. Not a huge accomplishment I realize, but to me it was. I felt great, for the first time in a long time.
I still remember the awesome feeling of victory I had standing at Wal-mart of all places, buying myself work-out clothes (my gift to myself for meeting my first goal—losing 15 lbs).
And to this day, I don’t know exactly where it went wrong. Was it when I started doing Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred and working out became not-so-fun again? When we went out to eat for our anniversary and ate out 3 times in a weekend after not eating out for months? (I swear, that stuff is addictive to me! It only takes a couple meals to fall off the wagon.) When I stopped posting about it weekly here on my blog? Or was it the fact that we moved across the state and all the stress and travelling that entailed? Or maybe it was my severe bout of depression and anxiety this past fall.
Whatever it was that caused the downfall, it’s complete.
I have not only gained back every single pound I lost, but I have surpassed my previous high weight. Friday night, when I stepped on the scale, it read 208.4. That is 10 pounds MORE than I weighed when I went to the hospital to give birth to my full-term babies! That is not okay. It’s not healthy. I worked so hard to get out of that “obese” category, but here I am again.
I feel that weight.
I feel it when I walk, when I talk, when I breathe, when I get dressed in the morning, and when I try to play with my boys. I feel it with every awkward movement.
I can’t describe the defeat I feel at getting back here. The discouragement that comes from making all that progress and then having to start all over.
It’s about taking my life back from the enemy, who comes to steal, kill, and destroy. And instead recognizing who I am in Christ, who comes to give me abundant life.
I have to leave myself with a positive thought about starting over. Because I know myself and I could easily bow under the weight of the defeat. But the truth is, I spent 3 months doing well and losing weight. And after I completely lost control, it took over 6 months for me to gain all that weight back. If that whole 9 months had been spent gaining, if I hadn’t lost that weight in between, I’d be even worse off now and I have to hold on to that.
So, this is me. Picking myself up. Dusting myself off. And starting up that mountain again, one step at a time.
What’s the toughest thing you’ve had to conquer? How did you do it?