When I think about what it was like - in my much younger years - to weigh 145, or even 130, I remember I didn't have a care in the world. I was happy, I was active, I was still lazy - but it all didn't matter because I didn't gain weight. I took it all for granted and never thought I'd be where I am today.
If blame is to be given - I blame pregnancy. I gained over 75 pounds in a very difficult and dangerous pregnancy. It was so bad, both my son and I almost died in the delivery and we were both brought back from the edge of darkness. My husband at the time was terrified. He was truly happy just to have me alive that my weight didn't matter to him. Thin or fat - I was here and I was alive.
I got even lazier (but only with my weight) about what I ate or did. I was highly active with my son, worked full time and went back to college. In between - I was on stage as a community actor. And I never lost the weight.
I didn't push because my husband loved me, my son didn't care, and the weight got me parts I'd never gotten before when I was thinner.
Then...my husband's alcoholism settled in and I was in a position of "fight or flight." I didn't lose the weight then because it was protective - it was something I could hide behind. But then food became comfort and I dove into it like it was a warm soft blanket on a cold winter's day. I wrapped myself up in a protective cocoon of food and didn't care about the damage I was doing to myself. No matter what I did - what my husband was doing was worse.
Now...I've been divorced for three years, my son turns 17 in 6 days and I'm heavier than I've ever been.
The excuses have done nothing except allow me to remain fat.
I've tried diets over the years - plenty of them - and have lost weight only to gain it all back and more. My story is no different than anyone else's.
So why am I still fat?
Because I was still hiding. Because to find love again, I'd have to truly care about me. To feel successful and to stop running from the fear that enveloped me for seven years - I need to slow down and realize my life is much better today than it was when I lived in fear with my now "ex" husband.
The nightmares of that time are finally starting to slip away...I don't fear going into a liquor store like I once did, and I'm not as hateful to the homeless alcoholic on the street corner. I've come away from that time in my life with plenty of battle scars, but they are just that - scars. They are no longer fresh wounds.
I'm beyond the need to wear those scars proudly - the scars are there, but I don't need to show them off.
I need to live with them, just as I live with all the other scars I've gathered from just living life. We all have them - mine are no better or no worse than yours. They are what they are.
No more blame.
No more hiding.
No more excuses.
This time it's for me. The only person it can be for. If I hide, if I seek comfort in food, if I'm lazy - then it's for me this time and not because I'm running or hiding. And if I get off my lazy butt and get moving - then that is for me, too. If I eat better foods, if I don't eat as if I'll never eat again, if I recognize that food is simply a part of life that adds fuel to living...then I am doing it for me.
This time is "me" time.
I allow myself to do whatever it is that makes me happy.
I allow myself to take it day to day.
I allow myself to find me again and fall in love with me.