5,116 kcal. Sunday was worse than Saturday. I feel so much shame / disappointment. I do not want to post this… but it’s real and it’s me and brushing it under the rug isn’t going to help anything. I’m still here. I’m still hopeful and still ready to change.
I have been feeling so motivated and I guess I thought *poof* everything is better and all my weight problems are magically fixed! Shocklingly, not so much.
My problem is not a lack of knowledge, it’s a lack of action. I’m educated. I understand diet and exercise in theory. It’s the implementation of these grand plans that I have that get me hung up.
I’ve been listening to podcasts for 6 months or so. There’s a plethora of free content available at the tap on a button. The thing all of the ones I follow have in common, is a focus on sustainable HABITS. It’s the little things that make the difference.
I planned to be perfect. But I was far from it! I am just going to do strive for better today than I did yesterday.
Another mini win in the midst of this crazy high calorie day: dance party with my littles. Moving around and laughing like fools. Up on my feet though, not letting that moment with them slip by.
There are two main factors that have contributed to my weight gain… Well, besides the obvious two: over-eating and lack of exercise….
Disorganization. We have a lot of stuff. My obsession with all things office supplies, clothes, kid’s toys, the hub’s tools. We were supposed to camp this weekend, but since the entire state of California seems to be on fire, the campground was closed. Since we’d already put in for the time off and the kids are all in daycare, we are tackling projects and I’m feeling like I can breath again! The problem is, I like our stuff. We use our stuff. I can’t go all Konmari ‘does this bring me joy?’ on my stuff. Little things bring me joy, so I can answer yes to a whole lot of stuff she’d toss out when I wasn’t looking. Maybe I’m just not ready to let go. Only time will tell. For now, I’m bringing some order into our lives, at the least.
Anxiety. Not like a clinically diagnosible anxiety. Just the everyday anxiety. Worry for the kids, my husband, money, the house, work, other members of the family, etc. Maybe I worry more than others? My dad died when I was eight. So I worry people are going to get hurt or die. That seems like a reasonable worry, since I’ve known it to be true, right? *insecure shrug*… I think about the worst thing that can happen, and try not to let that happen. I don’t outwardly fret too much, most of the time. My husband teases me sometimes when I express some of these fears. When I told him about my worst case scenario policy, he jokingly asked, “How do you leave the house everyday thinking like that?” He doesn’t know the half of it though. My mind immediately goes there: to the worst possible outcome. I curb the feeling by eating. At first it was only for big events and whatnot. Then I had kids. Someone said it’s like wearing your heart on the outside of your body. That’s exactly what it is. I love them so fiercely, that I am constantly worried about them in the background of my mind, no matter what I’m doing. Food offers temporary relief from these feeling, but it’s fleeting, and the consequence of being overweight suck.
I’ve identified these as the two biggest culprits for the current state of my weight. Getting the organization thing tackled this week. Working on the game plan for dropping these L-Bs. To be continued…
George Strait’s voice is playing in my head right now:
“He wondered how she’d take it when he said goodbye / Thought she might do some cryin’ lose some sleep at night / But he had no idea, when he hit the road / That without him in her life, she’d let herself go…”
For the non-country music fans, the song is about a woman who lives it up finally, after having dedicated her life to her family. That’s my take on it, anyways.
My intention with this blog is to Let Myself Go.
When I met my husband at 22 years old, I weighed about 135 lbs. I thought I was so fat back then. Well, I’d kill to be as fat as I once was! A decade, three beautiful babies, and a bunch of life later, I weigh 200 lbs. I’m short- barely 5’1- if I stand up really straight. I look in the mirror and I think, “how have I let myself go like this?!” I don’t even recognize the lady in my reflection.
Fortunately, my husband hasn’t left me. The man is a rock; he’s faithful and he leaves no room for doubt about his love for me. But I’ve lost myself in this whole marriage and motherhood thing. I never thought I’d get this big. It’s so frustrating and demoralizing!
I’m ready to change. It’s not too late to find myself. I think the way I’m going to do it is by letting myself go, in Mr. Strait’s interpretation of the phrase: by finding myself.