” ‘Tis the great art of life to manage well
The restless mind.”
~John Armstrong (1709–1779)
I don’t know when it started, but at some point around 1991 or so, I started secretly seeing myself negatively. As if I had a “not so good for me friend” I saw in secret and took their advice to heart even against my own spiritual well being.
Then later I just held on to this interpretation of myself.
Hello, my name is Margie. I am fat, frumpy, “less than” I could be.
I think Dave and I had been married about 2 years when I started this self inflicted private dissatisfaction. We had already endured and survived the loss of a child in the beginning of the third trimester, I was working second shift at a local headlamp factory, facing challenges of moving and buying our first house and all the stressors of all those things just added to me seeking a self fulfilling prophecy of being the “heavy set” version of me.
Because inside, I felt heavy.
All around.
I can’t say that I liked it, because I didn’t. But I picked it up every day and carried it like a rain soaked, ugly, hand-crocheted poncho on my shoulders. If i had to give it a color, it would probably be Squash Gold and drab Olive Green.
I believe that even then, it was actually something I could control, I could rise above it, shed that feeling, but I just felt like it was necessary for some reason to surrender to that feeling of never being satisfied with my reflection or my mass in the universe.
I chose to let myself feel as if I was not enough; “just shy” of whole.
Decades passed.
DECADES.
I can barely type that without clenching my teeth.
Man, what an incredible waste of self.
I went to bed thinking about how awful I looked and woke up each day promising to enact the miracle weight loss plan that I had hatched in the wee hours of the morning in the dark; and letting my feet hit the floor once again, disgruntled about how heavy my frame rested on the Serta.
Through the years I have lost weight on weight loss plans, fad diets and even sensible approach dieting and exercise. Each time, reaching, often attaining goals and then regressing to living normal again and putting on half of what I lost, always resting back to my 232 pounds. At one point I plummeted to a nice 198 and during a very stressful time I accelerated to a very unhealthy and uncomfortable 273.
But nearly always, I settle back to 232.
Where I am currently.
Why am I so angry with this vessel that God has blessed me with?
Why do I continue to beat myself down about my lined “resting face”, my round belly and chin?
I am healthy.
Or at least I seem to be.
I went 16 months without having even a cold and only then I ended up with the flu because it was just inevitable with two cases in the house.
I cook most meals at home.
Aside from those times when we run out of time or I have a particular yearning for a Whopper or Tacos made by the Bell.
For example, yesterday, I made a low fat and low calorie Butternut Squash soup that was the result of my son Williams schools garden. I finished the day with Turkey Croquets Primavera and most meals center around me trying to keep our family of 6 well nourished around the dinner table 5 out of 7 nights a week.
But recently I had an epiphany.
I woke up yesterday and before I got out of bed, I had a talk with myself about the daily grind I have always put myself through each morning. Right there, in the dark, just before becoming vertical:
I. Woke. Up.
I questioned my secret double life.
The life I have expressing with sincerity how much I love my family, exploring the outdoors and creating Art VS. the other internal version of my life of self deprecation, emotional flogging and bruised inner Peace.
Through that introspection in the dark…
I realized something.
I love greatly.
I am loved greatly.
I eat very well.
Healthily well.
I have great focus but too much anger directed at myself.
I am going to have to learn to be okay with 232.
Only then, will my body and mind have a chance to work it out and be happy.
Learning to be okay…isn’t surrender.
It’s acceptance.
And there is a big difference.
I will always have issues.
Internal and external.
We all have them.
However…
I rest well and often only need 5 or 6 hours of sleep to wake refreshed.
My blood pressure is normal or low at times.
I get in over 10,000 steps most days without even trying and I have a very happy and love filled life and home.
And I will always have metabolic issues.
I have no thyroid. That is a forever thing and I will just have to work hard to keep moving and accept myself.
But my anger towards myself is over.
I have wasted 25 years and countless hours of early morning Peace that could have been filled with counting my blessings.
So here’s to tomorrow.
Rising with a smile.
Ignoring the depression… I leave in the mattress.
And accepting, acceptance.
It probably won’t be the last time I have to talk to myself and shake the barrel to settle things, but at least I won’t be so angry at the barrel.
Peace y’all.
Peace. Love. And Good Grits... 