It’s
been quite a while since I’ve written a blog entry, around six weeks, and there
are valid reasons for it. Firstly, the summer holidays happened, and as every
mother knows, this is the period of the year that can struck horror into any
parent who treasures their sanity. Furthermore, it was the worst kind of summer
– a wet one! At the best of times, routines are disrupted, boredom thresholds
are low and nerves can be strained. But when the option of “go outside and
play” is removed, then cabin fever sets in. Tempers fray and the fridge and food
cupboards start to beckon with false promises of momentary sanctuary from the
chaos. I am glad to report, however, that I was able to resist and, instead,
took out my frustration on the exercise bike, so my fitness levels actually
increased! The kids are now back at school, I’m back at work and peace is
restored. However, opportunities to get back on the saddle are less convenient
so I have to make more effort. Well, sometimes…
The
other reason for the lack of blogging is, unfortunately, a much more somber one. Following
the loss of my mother in law in April, sadly my father in law also passed away
in early September. It has been very hard on our family, particularly my
husband who has now lost both his parents in less than six months. He has no
siblings and few living relations so the mantle of responsibility has laid
very heavily on his shoulders for some time. After his mother died, our plan
had been to move his father down from the family home in Scotland to sheltered
accommodation near to us in Kent. Unfortunately the loss of his wife became
unbearable and his health deteriorated, resulting in his submission to hospital
where he eventually slipped away. As a family, we are grateful that we have a
strong unit, the children have shown incredibly empathy and maturity and we are
confident that we will pull together and help one another through this. One
small mercy is that my in-law’s home actually sold just a few days before my
father in law passed away and my husband, in one of many frantic trips to
Scotland throughout July and August, had already succeeded in getting all his
father’s effects cleared away. So that
is something to be grateful for.
It
is extremely important to me, and to my family, to find gratitude in even the
most adverse of situations and this “attitude of gratitude” has helped us
weather many a storm in our lives. We try, every day, even when it has been a
particularly dark one, to end the night but thinking of a “champagne moment”
that punctuates our day. Sometimes it’s a struggle, but there is always a
moment that made you smile, laugh or just breathe a sigh of relief in every 24
hours. Sometimes you just need to dig deep to find it. It saddens me deeply
when people write off days, weeks, months, even years as "bad" because they are focusing
on the negative things that have happened. This attitude eventually becomes a self-fulfilling
prophecy – if you expect to see blackness, blackness will find you.
Try
this experiment. Think of a colour. Then look around you, wherever you are, and
pick out and note at least ten items of that colour. Then close your eyes. When
you open your eyes again, the colour you had thought of will jump out at you
wherever you look for the next few minutes. This is because you have
conditioned your brain, albeit temporarily, to see that colour. In the same
way, therefore, you can train your mind to seek the positive outlook. It can
take a little work but it’s worth it. All worthy endeavours require effort.
A
definite positive that I have been able to pull out of the grief we have
experienced is that neither my husband nor I have succumbed to the temptation
to bury our woes and our stresses using our former comfort – food. Unhealthy
‘treats’, snacks and takeaways were always our ‘go to’ solution when life dealt
us a poor hand of cards. Of course this was madness, as food solves nothing. I
think what has kept us on our current path is that fact that when, back, in
April, my husband’s mother passed away, both he and I were struck with the
realisation of the impact our own mortality would have on our own children.
When we reviewed our lifestyles it hit us both hard that we were not living
lives conducive to health and longevity. Granted, one day we would both die,
but, at the rate we were going, we were at risk of speeding that process along
and orphaning our children too soon. That frightened us, and made us both
decide it was time to make radical changes to our lives. Neither of us has
looked back since, and neither of us intends to revert back to the “bad place" either.
Just
before my own father died, I had lost a considerable amount of weight, probably
about 3 or 4 stone. Shortly after he passed away, I gave up my weight loss
efforts and piled the weight back on, adding a further few stones to my frame. Looking back it could be argued that this was understandable, that I
turned to food for comfort, and that I simply did not have the physical, mental
or emotional resources to continue on a diet whilst deep in bereavement. This
could be true. But, if I look a little deeper and examine my motives with eyes
that are now wiser and nearly 17 years older, I have to attest that I now
believe that I used my father’s death as an excuse to resume my bad habits and
to return to the behaviours that I found easier and more instantly gratifying. It’s
a hard fact to face up to, and doesn’t negate in any way the impact of losing a
parent, but I genuinely now feel that my food issues had nothing to do with my
father dying. I could blame nobody but myself, but then, younger and less
experienced, I fell into the trap of allowing myself to give in, instead of
mustering up the fight within me, a fight which always existed. A fight which
we all possess should we seek the courage to face our demons.
I’m
going to move away from sadness and talk more about cheerful and positive
matters. Since my last blog I have passed a few milestones. My weight loss now
clocks in at 75 pounds, that’s 5stone 5lbs since May 14th. A great achievement
if I say so myself, and one I’m very proud of . My 10 year old son stood on the
bathroom scales (more about those later) just the other day, and he weight 5st
5lbs, exactly the amount I have lost!! When my husband witnessed this, he asked
me if I fancied carrying my boy around all day, every day.
“Of course not” I said. “
Well,” he replied, “that's exactly what
you were doing before you started this plan”.
Now if that isn’t incredibly
motivating, then I don’t know what is…
Other
“little victories” I have experienced include being able to wear my wedding and
engagement rings (an ambition I recounted in a previous blog) and getting back
into size 20 clothing. I also celebrated, on September 10th, my 100th
consecutive day being 100% on plan. Back in May, when I first made the decision
to change, I was incredibly sceptical that I would last a day staying on plan,
yet here I am, on Day 112, still going strong!
Another victory is that I have
a new office chair! Doesn't sound like much, but a few years ago, after a car
accident which caused whiplash, I had to be given a "special chair".
When I filled out the H&S forms, it turned out I needed an "extra
special chair" because I weighed over 20 stone. Even though the form was
confidential I still felt pretty humiliated.
Anyway, the shiny new chair has arrived (just a "normal", nothing special this time) and I can't get over how firm and high it is. Comparing it with the last chair, I can actually see and feel where my former excess weight had impacted on the chair frame, forcing it down. And now I'm "normal"... Good times!!!
Anyway, the shiny new chair has arrived (just a "normal", nothing special this time) and I can't get over how firm and high it is. Comparing it with the last chair, I can actually see and feel where my former excess weight had impacted on the chair frame, forcing it down. And now I'm "normal"... Good times!!!
Recently
I returned to my choir after our summer break. I hadn’t been for over a month
and, on my return, was greeted by my fellow choristers with cries of surprise
and delight at my weight loss. Not that long ago, the compliments and attention
would have made me very uncomfortable, not because I didn’t enjoy the
attention, but because I feared failure and judgement when I “inevitably”
failed. Positive attention now would mean negative attention later when I fell
spectacularly off the wagon.
As I've
progressed on this journey (as readers of my blog will know), I've learnt that
what I believed to be the opinions of others was mainly in my own head, a last
ditch effort by my messed-up subconscious to self-sabotage.
This time, I decided "sod it - I'm going to enjoy this moment". After all, I was surrounded by people who had liked and accepted me at my fattest. So, I took time to actually listen and understand what they said when they complimented me. I concluded that their words were of happiness for me. They could see that I was glad to have lost weight and they delighted not in my changing shape but my changing attitude.
This time, I decided "sod it - I'm going to enjoy this moment". After all, I was surrounded by people who had liked and accepted me at my fattest. So, I took time to actually listen and understand what they said when they complimented me. I concluded that their words were of happiness for me. They could see that I was glad to have lost weight and they delighted not in my changing shape but my changing attitude.
I realised that there are people who love and accept me, however I look, and my
happiness is their happiness. I will choose to Surround myself by them and feed
off their positivity and encouragement.
Look for the right colours and you
will see the right colours…
To finish off, I will
end with a cautionary tale…. Earlier on this entry I mentioned that I own a
set of bathroom scales. These are a reasonably recent purchase, bought on a
whim and justified to myself as “for my husband”. Now, family members in our
household will know that “for my husband” or “for the kids” is actually
code for “stuff that I am buying for myself that I feel guilty about”. This
usually constitutes food, consumables which were never intended to be
consumed by anyone but me! Now to be fair, my dear spouse had expressed an
interest in buying a set of scales eventually as he, too, has been trying to
lose weight (and, in fact, it transpires, has shed two stone since May).
However, there was no urgency in his quest. With me, however, I was becoming
increasingly less content with waiting till my appointment with my consultant
to discover the results of that week’s efforts. And when, one fateful day, I stumbled across a bathroom scales “on sale” (another code,
meaning the potential purchaser has
carte blanche, and is in fact obligated, to buy , despite their being no need
for said item), I could no longer resist. ...Shortly after I discovered the
terrible truth – bathroom scales are evil, conniving, lying, scheming bastards
that cannot be trusted. They are clearly the work of the devil, designed to
lure us with false hope, only to smash our dreams moments later in the blink
of a digital monitor.
Actually, in honesty, it is not the scales’ fault at
all. In the hands of a measured, responsible individual they are a useful
tool with which to gauge our progress. But to an obsessive, compulsive,
addictive person like me it is a weapon of self-torment. In the weeks that I
have owned this Implement of Mockery I have probably weighed myself at every
conceivable time of day, in every thinkable state of dress, and assuming
every imaginable position possible. Yet, not one single day have I noted a
consistent figure on that dial. The problem with this is that the scales have
an undeniable influence on my mood. If they register a good loss then I am
elated. If they show a gain (as they are wont to do immediately after dinner)
then my emotions take a distinct downturn. My obsessiveness also increases
and I hop on and off repeatedly, trying to witness a miraculous change. What
frighten me the most is that my thoughts then turn to trying to think of ways
to make the pounds move in my favour. I start ruminating in my head about
reducing my calorie intake further, cutting down on water consumption,
pushing myself harder in exercise and even considering “miracle” pills and
potions that claim to accelerate weight loss. This is not a healthy attitude
and a stark reminder that the “devil on my shoulder” is never too far away.
If I allow my weight to occupy my thoughts as compulsively and obsessively as
it does every time I visit the bathroom and cannot resist a “cheeky weigh in”
just because the scales I there, I am dangerously meandering towards the path
of self-defeat. So I am going to put an end to this behaviour. I will stick
to my weekly weigh-ins, trusting that if I stick to plan then the weight will
come off. I will ask my husband to hide those nasty, wicked harbingers of
lies….. And maybe I will stick safely on the path to physical and emotional
wellbeing…
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