Wednesday, November 23, 2016

The Number Which Shall Not Be Written


My day of reckoning had arrived. For nine weeks, I had been giving intuitive eating a try. I was hoping for improved eating habits which would lead to weight loss. I may have gotten rid of some of my hang-ups about food, but to say I am a successful intuitive eater would be a lie. It was time to hold my feet to the fire, so to speak.

I know; I said I wasn't going to weigh myself, but you know what? The tighter my jeans got, the more I couldn't deny that I don't really have a handle on intuitive eating. I kind of got stuck in the "rejecting diet mentality" phase, and I was living there. No dieting. I may have thrown all caution to the wind.


I stepped on the scales Monday. Two-oh-two. Point six. Sigh. That number is so shameful to me, I can't even write the digits numerically. 

I hadn't lost any weight. Over the last two months, I had managed to gain five more pounds, and push myself past the number I swore I would never see again. At this rate, I would weigh more than Chuck by Father's Day. 

Heaven, help me.

Disclaimer: I know weight is only a number. I know weight does not define me as a human being, but I also know that weight is one of the markers for health, and I will suffer consequences with back pain, shortness of breath, arthritis, and high blood pressure if it continues to climb. I also know that not everyone can relate to the numbers on the scale which please me or frighten me. Some people would be horrified to know what my healthy weight is, and some are horrified that I have admitted how much I weigh. And there are some shaking their heads, thinking "let's trade problems." This is MY weight I'm talking about, and MY feelings about it. I make no judgment on anyone else.

This week, I decided to own where I was, and be accountable, and weigh myself. My weight graph chart would be great if it were for projected income or market futures, but considering the graph was initiated to record weight loss, and the line is climbing upward, it is disheartening.

How did I get here, you may be asking yourself. Eating was a contributing factor, obviously, but what else is going on? 

Last month, I had an a-ha moment. Food has been my main source of comfort ever since I was a little girl. I have used food for emotional support all of my life. 

We've heard about the seven deadly sins. I know what mine is. Gluttony. When I am overwhelmed with life, I do not turn to God; I turn to food. When I am frustrated, sad, lonely, uncomfortable, or anxious, I do not pray for help. I go to the kitchen, and eat until those dreaded feelings go away; until I've numbed myself from the emotional pain or discomfort I'm trying to avoid. 

My altar has been my kitchen sink, where I tend to eat when I'm unhappy. Food has been my god; a false god, but definitely mine. What a waste of devotion.


The two weeks before my 56th birthday were hard ones. My birthday correlates with the fading of autumn, and the onset of winter. I love all of the seasons, but the transition from fall to winter is not one I'm always ready to accept. My emotional state took a nosedive. 

Red flags surfaced. My clean laundry began piling up in the clothes basket in front of the dryer. For a girl who loves doing laundry, this shift should not have gone unnoticed. I was taking two to three naps a day, and woke up wishing I could stay asleep. I cried. In public, even. I didn't get off the couch much, and I didn't go for walks. I procrastinated even simple things like grocery shopping and sweeping the floor. Food seemed to be my saving grace.


What am I going to do about this latest statistic about my health? They say to do the same thing over and over and expect different results is insanity, so I'm going to try something new. 

Allowing myself to seek comfort in food has been so foolish. I have been worshipping the wrong god, thinking that eating would take away my pain. I need to turn to the Comforter, and surrender myself to Him. Food will have to step down from the altar; I'm going to let God be my god from now on. I know; what a concept. 

When I am struggling, I will take my problems to God in prayer, and trust that He will comfort me. I will admit my weaknesses, confess my sins, and ask for His help in overcoming my bad habits.

By sharing this embarrassing turn of events with you, I'm making myself accountable to you, too. I'm just trying to keep things real, and in order to do that, I have to hold my feet to the fire every once in awhile.

Right now, I am promising to check in with you in a month, and tell you how it's going. Wish me luck, send positive energy, or say a little prayer for me. I can use all the help I can get.  





12 comments:

  1. Denise, I wish you lived next door so I could pick you up in the morning and take you to the pool with me! The morning group would love you, and it's fun exercise.

    I admire you for bravely stating your goals and I will cheer you on. Know that I am here in whatever way you need.

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    1. Thank you, Denise, for always encouraging, and loving us where we are in our lives. You always offer unwavering support. Thanks so much.

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  2. I can relate to this.

    Also, that is the prettiest sink of dirty dishes I have ever, ever seen.

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    1. Well, there's that. A pretty little sink. 😜 It feels so good to know I am not alone.

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  3. It is so very hard to see those numbers on the scale go beyond what you like. Especially if you have been trying to be good about eating. It is even harder when you suspect you have not been good, but hope the numbers don't match what your clothes are saying. I know from what you have said before that food is more than sustenance to you. I will pray for you to get to know food as friend, but not the magic carpet to take away your hurts. Thank you for being you and for sharing all this. Will look forward to your journey.

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    1. That magic carpet dumps me off in some very unmagical circumstances. Thank you for your prayers.

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  4. Embrace Denise. The number is not Denise, nor are the dishes. So glad Denise cannot see my house and its disarray (I live with messy cats....yeah...that's it). Breathe and let it go, let God and love Denise. Take very, very good care of Denise. We love her.

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    1. Oh, Sharen. I forget God sometimes; the times I need him most. I really am trying to remember better.

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  5. I admire and celebrate your wonderful honesty. Owning the number, owning the weight, owning the problem, is the most difficult uphill part of the journey. Yes, food was your friend and comforter all this time, so honour it and thank it, and allow yourself grieve for it as you embrace a better solution to your pain.

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    1. Valerie, I hadn't thought to honor and thank food for comforting me in the past. I was too busy focusing on my shame. Thank you for your words of encouragement.

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  6. I feel your pain and know, that you are not alone.

    I'm 62 and have not ever been overweight- Now I find I am in a battle. I don't like sweets that much and I don't eat between meals and I eat proportionately, but I still am gaining, espeically after my gallbladder surgery. I decided to just stop stressing and I'll declare WAR in Jan.

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    1. I'll be at the front lines of the battle field until you join me. Wish me luck!

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