(My) Life is a Battlefield

Yesterday, my beautiful bloggy-turned-FB-turned-real-life friend, Heather, posted about her weight loss transformation. After the birth of her first daughter, she struggled to lose weight and, indeed, gained some extra. She didn't feel well, she was discouraged and frustrated, and all that made her unhappy. So she made some big changes. Today, several years and one more gorgeous daughter later, she's fit and slim - and she feels good (more important in my mind). I never thought she had a weight issue, but she did, so I'm really happy for her; she worked hard and reached her goals.

Her post prompted me to think about my own struggles with weight.

Sigh.

They seem never ending. Since high school, I've been in a perpetual I need to lose 10, 20, 30, 40, etc. pounds mindset. The only change is the amount of weight I need/want to lose. And the number creeps up (or races up, depending on what's going on in my life) with each passing year.

It's exhausting, y'all.

Like so many people, I've tried fad diets and crazy work-out plans. I've eaten my weight in cabbage soup, I've drunk those horrid SlimFast shakes, I've juiced and smoothied myself silly. And I've lost weight. Lots of it. I've also gained it. Lots more of it than I've lost. Over and over and over.

It's not healthy, y'all. I've done damage.

I know why I have a problem with food. Actually, let me rephrase that. I know why I have an addiction to food (because that's what it is). I know it's in my head and my heart (and, at times, it's physical, as some of the foods we eat [sugar and carbs] create the physical need for more).

I know I eat my feelings.

I also know what works for me with regard to weight loss. I know how to do it. I know how to do it in a healthy way. I don't even lack will power. When I'm motivated, I have enough will to power a small country.

But still, I'm fat. And worse, I'm so unhappy with being fat. And I don't want to be either.

This morning, while I was getting ready for work, I was looking in the bathroom mirror and a realization hit me. I was thinking about Heather's post and how I've battled my weight forever... and then I looked myself in the face and said, "What are you talking about? You haven't battled your weight." And then, "You haven't battled your weight."

And I haven't. I haven't battled my weight.

• I've battled feelings of inadequacy. 
• I've battled the belief that I'm not worthy of good things. 
• I've battled cancer. 
• I've battled anger - at myself and at others (but mostly at myself). 
• I've battled depression. 
• I've battled shame and embarrassment.
• I've battled self-loathing and disgust. 
• I've battled low self-esteem.
• I've battled crippling fear of both failure and success. 
• I've battled the belief that I'm lazy, that I'm a loser, that I must be stupid, that I'll never accomplish anything significant in my life. 
• I've battled the worry that because I don't love myself, I will never find real love or a partner to share Life with.

I have battled myself.

At every turn. 

Since I was about 10 years old.
See, that's when I stopped being invincible. That's when I started doubting everything about myself.

So, yes, I've battled. I've fought hard against every one of the feelings and beliefs I listed above - for more than 40 years. I've won some, I've lost most. Worst of all, the war has felt absolutely endless. 

But I have not battled my weight. I have not fought to keep it off. I've not engaged in combat with it - not in the way I've sparred with my feelings, my beliefs, my body, my own reflection.

Quite the opposite, really.

I've embraced the weight... albeit in a one-armed hug - the sort you give to family members you don't really like but have to put up with at Thanksgiving. I have welcomed it in the way you say, "Oh... hi... erm... come on in," to the wholly uninvited, unexpected, unwanted guest who shows up when you're still in your pajamas and your house is filthy.

No. I have not battled my weight.

I have battled every single part of me - of my psyche - instead.

And I'm fucking exhausted, y'all. 

I have hated myself. I've hated my reflection. I've hated the size of the clothes in my closet.

But I'm so damned tired of hating myself.

I'm tired of fighting myself.

I'm tired of feeling less-than, unworthy, angry, disgusted, afraid.

I'm tired of the roller coaster.

I'm so, so tired of being unhappy with who I am.

And I'm really tired of being fat.

I'm not exactly sure how to change the deep-seated mindset I've been warring with my whole life, but figuring out where the battles have actually occurred feels important to me.

And realizing that the weight is the by-product of all those battles and not the other way around feels really important. 

So I'm going to take those important realizations and I'm going to try to do something with them.

...

I'm going to try to turn those battlefields in my head and my heart... into gardens. 

Wish me luck. I'm gonna need it.