I will never forget one of the first “aha” moments I ever had in my never-ending weight loss journey. I was at a gym in the city, sharing a personal trainer with a friend. She was training for a sprint triathlon. I was training for…um…not dying a fat girl. The trainer ran me through the same routine as Triathlon Girl, only a bit modified. At one point I was going up and down on a step, turning beat red with my heart beating so fast I thought I was this/close from it bursting right out of my chest.
As I sat down and gulped for air, it occurred to me that it’s never going to get easier. All this time as I’m going up and down on this damned box, I’m thinking that one day this will all be easier. And my Inner Fit Girl tells my Outer Fat Girl, “Um, no it won’t. Because when it gets easy, it’s not effective. It’s always going to be hard. It HAS to be hard.” And I have to say, it was a fairly crushing blow to me and it’s still something that, many years later, I still fear.
I don’t *do* hard. Hard scares the bajeezus out of me. Hard makes me give up. Hard sucks.
But here’s the rub. EVERYTHING is hard for me now, not just killing myself in a gym. Getting out of bed is hard. Planning is hard. Facing the closet is hard. Hauling my carcass around is hard. And I really can’t give up any of these things, or my entire world – which feels tied together with a thin string these days – would just fall apart. How do I get past this? How do I embrace hard?
And here’s another thing. My psyche is in a precarious position at the moment. I have a new situation in my life that is causing me a great deal of stress and anxiety. It’s one of those situations that is truly unfair and unjust, and one where there are two options available and neither is good. And it’s not something that will be resolved quickly, so it’s a prolonged period of ick that awaits me. And I’m in a place where I have to stare down my own fears and anxieties to be someone else’s rock, beacon of hope, trusted confidante, etc. And that’s hard. Because I am angry and fearful and need my own reassurances. I know that keeping those feelings in, stuffing them down, is a large part of what got me to 300+ pounds in the first place.
Life is hard. Life will throw things at you when you least expect them. Life will send your spirits soaring on Tuesday only to grind them into the ground on Thursday. Life will give you the knowledge and tools to improve your situation, but will obscure your belief that you can do it.
It’s frustrating.
I came into work today on automatic pilot. Bought a muffin the size of my head without really thinking about it. Ate about half of it before really ever tasting it – it was crappy. I did snap out of it long enough to toss the other half in the trash, but I hate those zombie-like moments where we do what we’ve always done. Seek out comfort in a baked good. Not being present or mindful or self-nuturing.
I need my health to be my rock. I need to not stuff down my feelings. I need to lean on people and let them help me in ways I’m not comfortable or experienced with. I need to face these things head on when I’d really just wish them away if I could.
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