I'm Done...

I'm baring my soul tonight...how is this any different from all the other blog posts you may ask? Well, this is about a subject that I've written about before. It's about a topic that I've fought with my whole life. It's a topic that I have failed with for the last 36 years. My weight...I'm fat, in case you didn't notice. And there are certain points throughout my life where I hit rock bottom. Can you do that more than once? I think you can...and I just might be there again tonight. Writing about Brian dying is uncomfortable. Telling you all that Amelia has sensory issues was difficult. Telling the world, or at least the people that read my blog, that I struggle with weight is excruciating. I'm not sure why. I mean, you can all look at me and see that I don't exactly shine health and skinniness. I have struggled my whole life with my weight. I've always been heavy. I was active. But I was heavy. I hid behind my weight problem by joining every club and playing every sport. I was a three letter winner as a freshman, and a two letter winner my last three years of high school. I was overweight, but I played sports so that made being heavy ok in my head. Then I got a job at Olympic High School's pool as a lifeguard and a swimming lesson instructor. Yup...glutton for punishment right here. I had to wear a swimsuit as a fat person. I was mortified to stand on the pool deck in my suit and lifeguard tank top, with window open to the hallway of the gym where all could see me. I was ashamed. And then I left for college where I gained the Freshman fifteen. And the sophomore seventeen. And the junior...um...huh...a lot more. And then I lost a bunch and got married. Then I got pregnant and gained a bunch. And then I had Amelia and lost a bunch. And then I got pregnant again and gained a bunch. And then I lost a bunch. And then Brian died and life sorta threw a wrench into my weight loss plans. And I really haven't gained control back since then. Notice anything? I'm kind of an emotional eater. I eat when I'm stressed. I eat when I'm sad. I eat when I'm anxious. I eat when I'm depressed. I eat when I'm happy. I must like to eat, right? Lately, I'm stressed. A lot. Things were going pretty well there for a while. Remember my euphoric posts between October and December? Yeah...me too. I'm stressed. Work is stressful. I'm behind on things with my house. My sister came for a visit and I missed seeing her as much as I wanted because I was sick. Work is stressful. Some things happened that set me back emotionally a bit. I'm driving again, which is amazing, but it's also terrifying. I'm also good at hiding and faking emotion. I'm terrified to drive my children. I'm terrified that I might have another seizure. And rather than share this with anyone, I hold it in until I feel like I'm going to explode, like I do tonight. Right now, in fact. But I'm going to see if I can twist this for good. I tucked Amelia into bed tonight. I laid down next to her and hugged her and then I tried to get up. I have some joint issues, but I've also gained quite a bit so getting up wasn't as easy as it should have been for someone that's only 36 years old. Amelia asked if I was ok. I grumbled a bit, looked at her, and said, "Yeah, I'm just fat." She gasped and glared at me. "Mommy! Don't say that! You are NOT fat!" And then the tears welled in my eyes and I couldn't help it. I've read the articles on Facebook about positive body image and how we need to stop using negative self-talk in front of our little girls. But I couldn't help it. I looked at her said it again. "Amelia, I'm fat. And I've got to say that out loud so that I make sure I hear it. Because I'm tired of being fat. I don't want to be this way." Her quiet, hurt voice wavered a bit as she grabbed my face in her hands. "Mommy, listen to my words. You are not fat. You are beautiful. And I love you. So please don't say that word." Tears ran down my cheeks, and are running down my cheeks at this very moment because I have the best daughter in the entire universe. With just a simple gesture and a few words, she not only tried to stop me from talking poorly about myself, she also managed to make me realize my motivation for losing weight. My girls. I am all that they have. And I am not doing them any good by eating my stressors away. Is the enjoyment of a burger and fries really something that should trump not shoving it into my face and being around to watch them graduate? Or get married? Or, for Emerson, simply survive to turn four... And I know some of you may have read my blog posts from before where I said I was done, and I was losing weight. But humor me once more and believe me when I say "I'm done!" I can't live like this anymore. I am changing things and working up to my full potential. I'm gaining control of this very piece that's been spinning out of control for too long. It's time...and I'm coming up with a plan to change TODAY! Not waiting for Monday. Or the beginning of February. But tomorrow. I have two precious little girls snoring in the rooms down the hall that are counting on my being here for them for a while longer. And although work might be stressful, I need to think of the stress that Amelia and Emerson have already endured in their brief walk on this earth and know that I don't want to be responsible for adding to that stress. Amelia is right. I'm not fat. And I am beautiful. I just need to do some things so that I can see that beauty in myself. And I'll work on the negative self-talk piece. Because I know that I shouldn't talk about myself like that, especially in front of them. And hopefully this will be the last post where I write that I'm done! Because if I look up the meaning of the word done, most of the definitions indicate that something is finished. So, I'm thinking you can only be done once! So, I'm done! For the last time...