Things that scare me

My husband thinks I should do more things that I'm afraid of....little does he realize that getting out of me most days is brave enough. As a person with anxiety, I am riddled with fear. So I don't feel like riding a roller coaster or going ziplining will someone make me a better person. Going to a party where I don't know many people is scary enough for me to make my heart start racing....

The first step

So this evening I found myself somewhere I never thought I'd be: a weight watchers meeting. After losing 70 pounds 9 years ago and keeping it off for years, I gained 50 of it back during graduate school. That was 5 years ago and I haven't been able to lose or keep off more than 5 pounds since. So today, I sat there and felt defeated. Like it was some terrible admission that I couldn't do it myself. That all my working out (in spurts) and attempts at healthy eating (usually to be obliterated by queso, or wings or some number of things I can't seem to eat like a rational person). But about halfway through the meeting, I decided to get over it. And to admit that maybe in some way, it was a failure that led me to that chair but that maybe it was also the start of something good.

Granted, this journey towards weight loss started years ago. I have nothing new or illuminating to say about losing weight or being fat. I've been trying to lose weight since the 7th grade...years before I even knew about calories or exercise (because lord knows, these things were never discussed in my house. My mother continued to buy candy, dessert, chips in bulk from Sam's even though she knew I would eat it until it was gone.) It wasn't until I was 21 when I had my first taste of broccoli. My journey with weight loss (at least at the beginning) melded with my own mental health. When I first started learning about calories and exercise and exactly how long I would need to walk/jog to burn off those oreos, that I started thinking about what I ate. And when I would get upset or stressed or angry, and automatically reached for the fatty foods, I started realizing that somehow my emotions were tied to my eating and I no longer wanted that to be the case.

I had feelings of sadness and loneliness as early as the 3rd grade and ate my way through the next 15 years. I was 23 when I was diagnosed with depression and started taking medication for this. Managing my depression and anxiety allowed me to explore my feelings about food. Something that for years, was something I did without thinking, was now at the forefront of my conscience. I started losing weight at a healthy rate. 1-2 pounds a week. The exercise was helping my blood pressure. People started commenting on how good I looked (something I had never heard before). I was not in a job I liked. But then along came a male. A male who did not love me. A man who used me for what he wanted. A man who I became obsessed with pleasing. I figured there must be some magic number on the scale that would make him love him, to make him think I was worthy of love. So I started working out 7 days a week for hours at a time. I worked through injuries. At first, I lost weight. But then the phone never rang. I would eat my way through his silence and then punish myself on the treadmill. The scale stopped moving. My depression worsened. Then I made the decision to pick up my belongings, move across the country and start my life anew.

to be continued.