A Regression Into and Out of Numbers

I'm not perfect.

My psychological state isn't perfect, my health isn't perfect.

I do hope you know that.

I'm hoping that I can voice this, well write it, and get it out of my head.

As a warning, I am about to argue with myself, and this could be triggery for those of you who suffer from eating disorders. For that I apologize.

Last I weighed I was somewhere between 186 and 188. I made the mistake of weighing twice in a week. Stupid.

My brain is saying, you lost [almost] 8 pounds last month. You could do it again. Maybe your metabolism has sped up. Maybe it will happen again and again. If you lost 8 pounds this month and in the two months following that would be 24 pounds. 24 pounds in three months. That's 2 pounds a week. That's twice your previous speed. You should work out more, eat less. Maybe you could be 150 by December, maybe you could be 145. 210 minus 65 is 145. That's more than 1/4 of your weight. 210 minus 4 minus 5 minus 5 minus....

This.

This is why I am not weighing myself. 

Welcome to the dark side of my mind. This counting and recounting doesn't just relate to weight, it goes to calories and to other things, if I let it.

It's anxiety. My anxiety. Trying to contain itself by counting.

My mind does this with things I'm anxious about, it tries to circle back on itself. When I'm worried about a situation my mind rehashes all possible outcomes that it can consider, each more extreme than the last in a cycle that used to drive me mad.

And, honestly, sometimes still does.

My mind is full of sinkholes.

But I've learned what others haven't; you don't have to fall in.

If you don't fall in, eventually they start to seal over.

*I wanted to show you all this thinking because I want to discuss why it's wrong, how it's wrong*  (and maybe pull myself further from this sink hole, walk away instead of sticking my toe in)

I do not believe that my weight determines my beauty or my value or my success in pursuing health. I see nothing but crackpot evidence of any of those things. What does it matter if I'm 145 or 150? Will I be more beautiful? Will I feel more beautiful? No. I've lost weight before with the "I'll be better, I'll be more when" mentality, and I was miserable. I lost opportunities because by the time I "got there" I was so consumed with "not good enough" that I was lost in it. No, losing weight, specifically losing to a "goal" weight, won't make me feel more beautiful.

And, I believe that beauty is innate. I believe that beauty comes from *existing* beautifully; from being spiritually healthy, from treating your body and mind well, from making intimate connections, from doing good, from loving yourself, from loving others, from being your best self. This is beauty. All people are capable of beauty at all stages of life, all sizes, all ages. So, no, losing weight cannot make me more beautiful, because beauty is more than something that can be bought or sold, beauty is not something you can cake on or take away. So, no, losing weight won't make me more beautiful.

Will it make me more valuable? Perhaps to some, but to none who matter. Do I resent those who think weight and value are correlated? Yes. Do I see them as morally deficient? Yes! Do I think they harm society with their views? Yes! Do I want to impress or give a sense of validity to those who I feel are socially disruptive and morally deficient? No. So, I cannot consider that any social "value" gained by weight loss would have any gain me. No more than blood money. You win and you loose, and the latter in far greater measure.

Will losing to a particular goal weight make me healthier? I really really really don't believe so. No. It won't. I am healthy. I exercise for an hour nearly every day. I do my best to  make sure I get enough sleep. I work hard to ensure and maintain a healthy psychological state. I pursue my faith. I have removed all things both made of and containing sugar or any processed sweetener from my diet. I try to laugh every day. I go to the doctor when I'm sick. I avoid excess. No, I'm healthy. As long as I continue to do these things to the best of my ability, I am healthy. Only idiots who look only at numbers would think that I'd be more healthy at a low goal weight.

Even if all the idiots thought I was healthy, I'd be unhappy. No, that's not a worthy exchange.

Besides, the likelihood of continuing to lose weight at any one speed, is highly unlikely. The body is not like a car that you can set to cruise control. It varies with time of year, food intake, stress, and hormones. Additionally  the lower your weight, the less you will lose, if you are losing, if you should lose at all for optimum health, because the lower it goes (to a point, obviously), the closer you get to your healthy weight. Yours. Not some got-dam chart made up by someone obsessed with saving insurance companies money (does it not seem odd, the concept that an insurance company is a business and not a charity nullifies the purpose of being insurance...). We are not numbers, we are not statistics.

Beyond all that, it's far more likely that the 8 pounds was a fluke, maybe even a fluke of the scale, particularly seeing as I'd lost 5 pounds each in the 3 previous months. To make a number goal, to obsess, to count and recount as my mind is inclined to is a recipe for pain, both psychological pain in the form of intense anxiety and self doubt, and the pain of disappointment when I inevitably fail to reach a goal I have never ever reached, not even with my best previous efforts.

So, this is how I will close; 

The numbers don't matter, and the time doesn't matter.

I am healthy, and I will continue to be healthy. It would be nice to get below "obese," but I don't have to. I am healthy, my body will go where it needs to. I trust it.

I am committed to loving my body now. If it changes, I will love it then too, and I will love the memory of how my body was.

I am beautiful now. I will practice existing beautifully.

I am valuable now. Value is one of the most inalienable rights. Right up there with beauty. And, like beauty, it cannot be diminished by there being more people with it. It is innate to us (this is why the darkness of the world tries to convince us we don't have it, or that we've lost it). I will practice living in light of that knowledge; that I am very valuable, that we all are.

I am eternal. I will live in light of eternity. I understand that I am a baby in this universe and I will pursue beautiful maturity in all things, but especially my soul.

:-)

There is no Wagon and you Cannot Care for a Thing you Hate

I'd like to start by pointing out that in the last post I was very frustrated and very down on myself but that any kind of self-damaging behavior was not and is not an option.

That said, a lot has changed. 

My weight went up.

And up.

And up.

I didn't like how I was feeling. But, I was very concerned about psychological effects of any weight loss efforts. See, when I looked at dieting and exercising it seemed to have a very similar mentality to self-injury. It was trying to punish and deprive the disgusting worthless fat part out of me. And, I knew that this attitude was COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE. This is not how you condition any living organism. You cannot create a desired behavior through punishment, not ever. Unless the desired behavior is anger, fear, and learned helplessness. Which is exactly what our society is doing. So, I made an effort to start loving myself, and loving my body, and combating the feeling that I needed to hide until I was thin, that I needed to wait to start my life until I was thin. Because, here's the thing, you cannot take care of a thing you hate. We teach all girls at a young age to hate their bodies, to hate their bodies so much...that they take care of it? No. They don't. I think it's a fair measure to say that even most of the "normal weight" and "thin" girls are not taking care of their bodies. I tried to start seeing my body as good. Because I have to love myself as I am. 

I decided it didn't matter if I lost weight. I was going to be healthy. If my body wanted to be healthy at whatever weight it was, then I would learn to love it.

I bought a stair machine. Because I love my body. And I like the feeling of running up stairs two at a time, and I missed being able to do that.

And Lent began. I've gone off all sweeteners but raw local honey (again). And, of course, the honey is not meant to replace all the sweeteners I'm not eating, but to be a special treat on top of a toast or in a coffee. I'm fasting from sweeteners for two reasons; 1. Because it isn't easy, so whenever I want a sweet I am reminded of the suffering of Christ, how he sacrificed for me. And, 2. Because it's GOOD FOR ME. Did you know that almost everything has sugar (and if not sugar than a sweetener) in it? Yeah, I mean that literally. That bread? Sugar. No sugar added? That's 'cuz they added Splenda. Those crackers? High fructose corn syrup. Those potato chips? Sugar. That frozen diet dinner? Sugar, and a ton of salt. Those frozen veggies with butter/cheese? Sugar. That yogurt cup? Sugar or splenda. That soy milk? Sugar....eeeevvvvrrryyyyttthhhiiinnnggg. I've watched a lot of videos on healthy eating and have come to a few conclusions; Whole food is better, organic is better still, veggies are way under suggested and sugar is bad for you (with the exception of fruit and the occasional teaspoon of honey). I love my body and I love God, so I gave up sweeteners. 

My weight has come down some. About 10 pounds. It's still high. And that's okay. I'm going to throw out my scale now. Because my scale doesn't get to determine my value or my health. 

I've started my garden, it's more than twice the size it was last year. I do pottery. I do sculpting. I use my stair machine every day. I don't watch television. I'm considering continuing my "fast" after Lent ends. I love going to parks and walking. I've been accepted into grad school. I am of sound mind and sound body. I have no time for things like scales. Life is calling to me.