So, lately I have been doing a lot of talking at work about my new healthy lifestyle. I feel almost like a broken record when I give my speeches about my food extracting, my healthy cooking, eating whole organic and clean, how easy it is etc.
But, yesterday I was talking to a woman who has had the same lifelong struggle with weight and she asked me what most people seem to want to know: "How much weight have you lost?"
I have no idea. While it's clear that the amount is significant enough for people to be noticing, I am sorry to say I don't know. A lot of people are more concerned with the pounds coming off or how much fat they are eating or how many carbs are in that banana.
I try to stress to them that it is a lifestyle change and not a diet. That I am not going to set weight loss targets and and a final goal. I want to sustain good health for however long I am going to live on this great planet of ours.
I set out to figure out why I struggle with food, to learn about my relationship with eating. I wanted to address all my triggers and why I would always gain the weight back. I wanted to figure out why I became a compulsive eater in the first place.
I have taken a long hard look at all of those things. And while I don't, and may never, have all they answers as to why food was my way through stress and grief, I now know that there is another way to use food.
I have done numerous weight loss programs and all I concerned myself with was eating however many calories, points, fat grams, or carbs were allowed on these "diets". I have learned much from these programs including what not to do. I have also learned that I had so many tools already and never knew how to use them.
I am not a vegan. I am not a total raw food freak. I am not only going to eat what has fallen on the ground for fear of hurting the plant or tree from which it came! But I do care what I put into my body.
Does this mean I will never again have a burger from a drive-thru? Most likely, yes. Does it mean I will never have ice cream or cookies or chocolate or pizza? Not on your life!
There are many alternatives to fast food and junk food. I still have chips and salsa. I still have cheese. I even have beef once in a blue moon. I dine out. I visit friends. I go to social functions. And, in all of these instances, I choose things that are most like what I would make at home. Yes, the chips are most likely multi-grain and organic and I might order something without some of the sauces and glazes. I make my own salad dressing. It's not that hard to do.
I reached a couple of landmarks this week and I am quite proud of both.
Tomorrow will start week number seventeen of eating healthy and taking care of myself. When I belonged to Weight Watchers, they had started something where, after sixteen weeks, you received a key chain that said "sweet sixteen". Behavioral professionals believe that if you can change a behavior for sixteen weeks, the new behavior you replaced the bad one with becomes a new habit. So you absolutely can teach an old dog new tricks!
There is still a long road ahead of me to get this battered body of mine back into shape and there is much learning on my part that still needs to take place. But I know in my bones that this is the right path for me. It's not for everyone. Lots of people can maintain good health and weight and still have the occasional Big Mac or ice cream sundae. They don't need to pre-think each morsel they ingest. But food has been my go to drug for so long that I have to continue to be wary of going back to my old way of thinking which was, when it came to food, not much thinking at all. I drove past a fast food drive-thru yesterday as a short cut and I realized that aside from maybe the actual taste of some of the food, I don't miss those super sized meals one bit. There are so many tastes that I am discovering that are way more satisfying and will lead me to better health.
My other landmark was fitting into ten pairs of pants that have been sitting in my closet for a few years. Some of them were almost brand new! When I began this whole journey, I was busting out of a size and could have gone up and the pants would have fit fine (maybe slightly loose). Now,I am squeezing into some that are three full sizes down. I won't wear those yet. Maybe in a couple of weeks. And, although I'll hold on to them a bit longer, I will be donating some of my "fatter" pants eventually.
I set out to make myself healthier. I think I am achieving that, more so each week. I knew that I needed to lose weight. DUH! But, I did not start out with that specific goal in mind. It has been a wonderful by-product of changing everything!
There's a weight loss product commercial on TV that says "Want big pants?" My response has always been "I already have big pants! That's my problem!" But I guess I forgot that I also had smaller pants that were just waiting for my ass to get smaller (and, maybe a little smarter)!
Monday, April 29, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
"Please Come to Boston for the Springtime..."
There are times when I come up with a million and one ideas for posts and then by the time I get through my day and sit at my computer, I have completely forgotten what I wanted to say.
This may be one of those times so forgive me if I end up rambling.
Last weekend I went to visit a friend who lives out of state. Over the years since she moved there with her husband, it has become a haven for me. She has added a daughter, now thirteen, and two cats. It's a wonderfully cozy niche in the mountains of southern Pennsylvania. I go there to heal.
Well it ended up being a more chaotic weekend than I would have had if I had stayed home. Her daughter was in a play and my friend was starting a new job and family was in and out and a big project was due and there wasn't a lot of down time. I had a ball. I left there as relaxed as ever.
It took me seven hours to get home and I spent most of that time singing to the radio and hatching a story that could turn into a book or a series of books or nothing at all.
When I got home, my husband informed me of the tragedy at the Boston Marathon. My thoughts went immediately to another friend whose daughter is about to graduate from BU. I was relieved to find out that she was safe.
But I was struck by the fact that some people were not. The news was still sketchy and no one knew how many people were killed or injured. When things like this happen, I can't help but wonder why humans can do such terrible things to their fellow humans. It's baffling.
But I was also struck by the spirit of some people who ran into the crowd to help their fellow humans. Not just the first responders...but the ordinary citizens who probably don't think they did anything extraordinary.
A marathon is an inspiring event to people like me...long distance running is something I don't think I could ever understand. You run until you're panting and your eyes are going to pop out of your head and your muscles burn and you are hallucinating...I just don't get it. I don't think I'll be running any marathons any time soon or ever at all. Small sprints are more my speed. Very small. And not even all that sprint-y.
I watched the news while they were trying to take the second bomber into custody. I found myself praying that they didn't kill him. I believed, or hoped, that he may be able to provide some minor tidbit of intel that would help thwart any further acts of terror that may be in the offing. There had been enough death over those few days and all of it senseless. I truly felt for the poor families of all those victims. And these two boys who got all pumped up with hate...I even had a little pity for them...and for their families who just couldn't believe that these two boys would do anything remotely like this. We have since learned that maybe the older boy was filled with some kind of hatred for our ways and wanted to do some damage.
These terrorists don't understand that the lesson isn't theirs to teach. Most American citizens, and most citizens of the world as well, are just going about their lives.
We all go to school...I'm not talking about Third World countries and countries where girls aren't allowed to get an education...but most of us go to school and graduate and go to college or trade schools or out into the world to make a living. We get married, move in with life partners, have children or buy a dog or adopt a cat or a ferret or a parakeet...we spend most our lives working and trying to stay afloat...we don't take time to stop and consider that someone is resenting us because we have all this opportunity and all this entitlement and all this stuff and we don't appreciate any of it...and because our government is using their countries for oil and power and whatever else, they blame us because they think we are all the same...and maybe we are what they think...complacent, intolerant, irreverent. They say, "We'll show them!" and they try to blow us up or they crash planes into our buildings because we believe that girls SHOULD go to school and every nation should have clean water and schools and art and music. We are walking our dogs and cleaning out the litter box and feeding the fish and we are buying groceries and cars and condos. We are so caught up in getting little Sally to ballet class and soccer practice and honor society meetings, and Rover to the groomer and Fluffy to the cat whisperer that we don't realize that there are whole villages being taught to hate our entitled lives.
There are people out there who want to blow us up. They want to destroy our infrastructure. They want to scare us with nuclear weapons. But, I don't think these people are the majority. Only the people who want to inflict terror on us feel that we should suffer and die for our ways.That is why we call them "terrorists".
I would like to believe that most people are tolerant and good and don't hate because of diversity. I know there are many in the world and lots in this country who hate because of skin color, religion, sexual orientation or political affiliation. Diversity has always made this country strong. It is not an excuse to hate.
These terrorists, foreign and domestic alike, are no better than bullies on the playground. Why bring a knife to a gunfight? Why bring a bomb to a foot race? I doubt very many people there had some kind of political agenda. They just wanted to run or cheer on their loved ones. And they paid dearly for the privilege.
But the human spirit is resilient and we still have Neil Diamond and the New York Yankees still paid homage to the Boston Red Sox. And in London, at their own marathon, people wore ribbons and dedicated their run to the victims of the Boston tragedy. We are not undone by what they do.
This may be one of those times so forgive me if I end up rambling.
Last weekend I went to visit a friend who lives out of state. Over the years since she moved there with her husband, it has become a haven for me. She has added a daughter, now thirteen, and two cats. It's a wonderfully cozy niche in the mountains of southern Pennsylvania. I go there to heal.
Well it ended up being a more chaotic weekend than I would have had if I had stayed home. Her daughter was in a play and my friend was starting a new job and family was in and out and a big project was due and there wasn't a lot of down time. I had a ball. I left there as relaxed as ever.
It took me seven hours to get home and I spent most of that time singing to the radio and hatching a story that could turn into a book or a series of books or nothing at all.
When I got home, my husband informed me of the tragedy at the Boston Marathon. My thoughts went immediately to another friend whose daughter is about to graduate from BU. I was relieved to find out that she was safe.
But I was struck by the fact that some people were not. The news was still sketchy and no one knew how many people were killed or injured. When things like this happen, I can't help but wonder why humans can do such terrible things to their fellow humans. It's baffling.
But I was also struck by the spirit of some people who ran into the crowd to help their fellow humans. Not just the first responders...but the ordinary citizens who probably don't think they did anything extraordinary.
A marathon is an inspiring event to people like me...long distance running is something I don't think I could ever understand. You run until you're panting and your eyes are going to pop out of your head and your muscles burn and you are hallucinating...I just don't get it. I don't think I'll be running any marathons any time soon or ever at all. Small sprints are more my speed. Very small. And not even all that sprint-y.
I watched the news while they were trying to take the second bomber into custody. I found myself praying that they didn't kill him. I believed, or hoped, that he may be able to provide some minor tidbit of intel that would help thwart any further acts of terror that may be in the offing. There had been enough death over those few days and all of it senseless. I truly felt for the poor families of all those victims. And these two boys who got all pumped up with hate...I even had a little pity for them...and for their families who just couldn't believe that these two boys would do anything remotely like this. We have since learned that maybe the older boy was filled with some kind of hatred for our ways and wanted to do some damage.
These terrorists don't understand that the lesson isn't theirs to teach. Most American citizens, and most citizens of the world as well, are just going about their lives.
We all go to school...I'm not talking about Third World countries and countries where girls aren't allowed to get an education...but most of us go to school and graduate and go to college or trade schools or out into the world to make a living. We get married, move in with life partners, have children or buy a dog or adopt a cat or a ferret or a parakeet...we spend most our lives working and trying to stay afloat...we don't take time to stop and consider that someone is resenting us because we have all this opportunity and all this entitlement and all this stuff and we don't appreciate any of it...and because our government is using their countries for oil and power and whatever else, they blame us because they think we are all the same...and maybe we are what they think...complacent, intolerant, irreverent. They say, "We'll show them!" and they try to blow us up or they crash planes into our buildings because we believe that girls SHOULD go to school and every nation should have clean water and schools and art and music. We are walking our dogs and cleaning out the litter box and feeding the fish and we are buying groceries and cars and condos. We are so caught up in getting little Sally to ballet class and soccer practice and honor society meetings, and Rover to the groomer and Fluffy to the cat whisperer that we don't realize that there are whole villages being taught to hate our entitled lives.
There are people out there who want to blow us up. They want to destroy our infrastructure. They want to scare us with nuclear weapons. But, I don't think these people are the majority. Only the people who want to inflict terror on us feel that we should suffer and die for our ways.That is why we call them "terrorists".
I would like to believe that most people are tolerant and good and don't hate because of diversity. I know there are many in the world and lots in this country who hate because of skin color, religion, sexual orientation or political affiliation. Diversity has always made this country strong. It is not an excuse to hate.
These terrorists, foreign and domestic alike, are no better than bullies on the playground. Why bring a knife to a gunfight? Why bring a bomb to a foot race? I doubt very many people there had some kind of political agenda. They just wanted to run or cheer on their loved ones. And they paid dearly for the privilege.
But the human spirit is resilient and we still have Neil Diamond and the New York Yankees still paid homage to the Boston Red Sox. And in London, at their own marathon, people wore ribbons and dedicated their run to the victims of the Boston tragedy. We are not undone by what they do.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Let's Talk About...DUH!
Today I think it is finally time to talk about what I like to call the DUH Factor. Oprah has her "A-Ha moments, and I have the DUH Factor.
You're a ten year old chubby girl on the playground in Grade school and one of the school bullies challenges you to a fight. Lots of kids are gonna turn out to watch the weird chubby girl get an ass-whupping from the meanest girl in town! I wouldn't miss it for the world. Of course I couldn't miss it since I was the chubby girl.
The last thing I wanted to do was instigate a fight with this heartless and tough bully. I probably had 30 pounds on the kid but I didn't think my weight was an asset back then (or ever, come to think of it)...
It was a chilly day on the playground and everyone was waiting to see if I'd show. The bully was there with all her tough, trash-talking friends. In the end, however, the fight never happened. She said that she knew that someone told one of the playground attendants and that we would most likely get suspended if we fought. Now that I knew it was not going to happen, I got real brave and said that she should never have punched me in the neck to begin with. Then it hit me...the DUH Factor! DUH! Keep your mouth shut you idiot! She's still gonna kick your butt, just not today!
Hoping that it wasn't a case of too little, too late, I clammed up and avoided her like the plague for the rest of my school career and have avoided contact with her in all forms of social media! She threatened me a couple more times but it never turned into anything. But that didn't stop me from being afraid of her.
She did get back at me by convincing someone to squeeze an entire tube of Aim toothpaste into my sleeping bag during the Girl Scout camping trip to Bear Mountain.
So what is my reason for telling this story? I am not sure and it certainly doesn't paint a pretty picture of my childhood...Oh yeah! Because I believe that this was my first encounter with the DUH Factor.
The DUH Factor is a knowing. Knowing that you've always had the power to change things-the world-your behavior-your hiding place for toothpaste when on any Girl Scout outing-and most importantly to change your mind!
Since starting this whole new lifestyle, I have completely changed the way I look at so many things. One is the way I look at myself. I am brutal on myself. I need to be much kinder and gentler to me. DUH! Another is the way I approach stressful situations. That fight or flight reflex kicks in and I automatically go into stress over-drive! Sweat beads on my brow and the back of my neck, my throat gets dry and tight, my heart rate accelerates at an alarmingly quick clip...if I would just remember to breathe and let the stress happen, my reaction wouldn't take such a physical toll. DUH!
A very long time ago, I learned that food and fun and food and stress and food and sadness and food and loss and food and insecurity go hand in hand in...well, you see my point.
Now, I look back and realize that I never had to carry that with me. DUH! The bully on the playground was a million times less harmful to me than the bully in my head telling me that food was the way to alleviate everything stressful and bad in my life.
So, since I am still at the beginning of my journey, I am learning that food is not a replacement for love or friendship or loss. It is not my friend. It is not my enemy. Food is for sustenance and health and well being. DUH!
I am also learning that my tendency toward being over-weight is not who I am. It doesn't define me...well, it doesn't have to define me. I think, perhaps, I am still working on that one.
The most important lesson that I am still learning is that I have a choice in this matter. The tragedies and sorrows of my life don't need to be my excuse for my obesity. I think that my mother and her mother and maybe even her mother's mother, truly believed that they didn't have too many choices in life. You get what you get.
I don't believe that.
And I also figured out that we don't get one chance or five chances or no chances...we get an infinite...OK maybe not infinite because we are all gonna die someday-DUH!...we get a myriad of chances every day to make at least one or one million right decisions. Sometimes, we are aware of the choices we make against the challenges with which we are faced. Sometimes we have to look for choices. Sometimes fate steps in and rips that choice right out from under your feet. But we can still remain standing!
Take a good, long look at yourself and say "Hmmm...there's a lot of room for improvement." Then, find out what needs the most work and one day and one bad habit and one quirk or whatever-at a time...choose to change. DUH! Just change one thing. One behavior that derails your chances of reaching your potential! DUH!
You're a ten year old chubby girl on the playground in Grade school and one of the school bullies challenges you to a fight. Lots of kids are gonna turn out to watch the weird chubby girl get an ass-whupping from the meanest girl in town! I wouldn't miss it for the world. Of course I couldn't miss it since I was the chubby girl.
The last thing I wanted to do was instigate a fight with this heartless and tough bully. I probably had 30 pounds on the kid but I didn't think my weight was an asset back then (or ever, come to think of it)...
It was a chilly day on the playground and everyone was waiting to see if I'd show. The bully was there with all her tough, trash-talking friends. In the end, however, the fight never happened. She said that she knew that someone told one of the playground attendants and that we would most likely get suspended if we fought. Now that I knew it was not going to happen, I got real brave and said that she should never have punched me in the neck to begin with. Then it hit me...the DUH Factor! DUH! Keep your mouth shut you idiot! She's still gonna kick your butt, just not today!
Hoping that it wasn't a case of too little, too late, I clammed up and avoided her like the plague for the rest of my school career and have avoided contact with her in all forms of social media! She threatened me a couple more times but it never turned into anything. But that didn't stop me from being afraid of her.
She did get back at me by convincing someone to squeeze an entire tube of Aim toothpaste into my sleeping bag during the Girl Scout camping trip to Bear Mountain.
So what is my reason for telling this story? I am not sure and it certainly doesn't paint a pretty picture of my childhood...Oh yeah! Because I believe that this was my first encounter with the DUH Factor.
The DUH Factor is a knowing. Knowing that you've always had the power to change things-the world-your behavior-your hiding place for toothpaste when on any Girl Scout outing-and most importantly to change your mind!
Since starting this whole new lifestyle, I have completely changed the way I look at so many things. One is the way I look at myself. I am brutal on myself. I need to be much kinder and gentler to me. DUH! Another is the way I approach stressful situations. That fight or flight reflex kicks in and I automatically go into stress over-drive! Sweat beads on my brow and the back of my neck, my throat gets dry and tight, my heart rate accelerates at an alarmingly quick clip...if I would just remember to breathe and let the stress happen, my reaction wouldn't take such a physical toll. DUH!
A very long time ago, I learned that food and fun and food and stress and food and sadness and food and loss and food and insecurity go hand in hand in...well, you see my point.
Now, I look back and realize that I never had to carry that with me. DUH! The bully on the playground was a million times less harmful to me than the bully in my head telling me that food was the way to alleviate everything stressful and bad in my life.
So, since I am still at the beginning of my journey, I am learning that food is not a replacement for love or friendship or loss. It is not my friend. It is not my enemy. Food is for sustenance and health and well being. DUH!
I am also learning that my tendency toward being over-weight is not who I am. It doesn't define me...well, it doesn't have to define me. I think, perhaps, I am still working on that one.
The most important lesson that I am still learning is that I have a choice in this matter. The tragedies and sorrows of my life don't need to be my excuse for my obesity. I think that my mother and her mother and maybe even her mother's mother, truly believed that they didn't have too many choices in life. You get what you get.
I don't believe that.
And I also figured out that we don't get one chance or five chances or no chances...we get an infinite...OK maybe not infinite because we are all gonna die someday-DUH!...we get a myriad of chances every day to make at least one or one million right decisions. Sometimes, we are aware of the choices we make against the challenges with which we are faced. Sometimes we have to look for choices. Sometimes fate steps in and rips that choice right out from under your feet. But we can still remain standing!
Take a good, long look at yourself and say "Hmmm...there's a lot of room for improvement." Then, find out what needs the most work and one day and one bad habit and one quirk or whatever-at a time...choose to change. DUH! Just change one thing. One behavior that derails your chances of reaching your potential! DUH!
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
"I Believe in You and Me"
So I have made a discovery. A revelation, really.
I have discovered that even when I am feeling my worst, I can still make smart choices.
Spring is still not quite here. I am not deterred. We had some lovely sunny days and I began my couch to 5k. I have discovered that the program I am doing is only 3 days so I elected to walk on those other days. But just when I was gaining momentum, I was struck down by what I must only term as embarrassing feminine issues. Being of a certain age, it is bound to happen.
But it took me out of the game for a few days.
And on a holiday weekend.
Still, I managed to pull it off and made a simple dinner for my sister and myself. It was healthy and nutritious and delicious and I was useless the next day.
And yet, for all my inability to get off the couch, I still managed to make good choices. I had some carbs and cheese on Easter so yesterday I was determined to make up for it. And I did. I cut out excess fat and opted for veggies and lower carb fruits. No potatoes. No bread. And I was fine. I never felt hungry or deprived. I even managed to drink my water in between naps. It was a very self-indulgent day and yet I managed to NOT over-indulge. Hubby brought home some candy from the super market and I didn't touch a morsel. Not even a bite of a peanut butter cup (my biggest weakness)...and still I did not feel deprived. I had a yogurt and added some banana and berries and a drizzle of honey. That was my big indulgence for the day.
Anyone reading this who is NOT addicted to food may not understand what a big deal this is. I am managing to get through without even wanting to overeat.
It all started with an idea I had been rolling around in my brain. That idea was born out of all the failed attempts I ever made at weight loss. And by failed I mean that the weight, however long I managed to keep it off-weeks-months-years, always came back. Sometimes it crept back slowly and I managed to quash it before it took me back to where I started. And sometimes it came back with a vengeance doubling or tripling my original weight loss.
How could I start anew, up 100 plus pounds from my last significant (84 pounds) loss? I realized that I had all the tools already in my arsenal. I knew how to eat, how to move. I investigated alternative ideas like switching to whole, clean food. I learned about holistic ways to heal my body and mind. And I prayed. I learned about organic, sustainable foods. I was bombarded with info about all the latest "super foods" (dunt dunt duhh!).
Then I realized knowing all this hasn't done me much good so I decided to change one thing. I changed my mind. I changed my mind about my relationship with food. I decided that I would not diet. I would not weigh in. I would not beat myself up for gaining it back. I would not look too far down the road at how much work I have to do to lose all this weight I've gained. I decided that just worrying about each moment as it arrives is the best way to conquer the negativity that made me think food had any power over me. I replaced the negative with a positive. It has begun to carry over into other areas in life and I am still at the very beginning of this lifelong journey.
On the wall, next to my station at work, is print that reads "Happiness is not a destination, it is a way of life." Why not embrace that as my mantra? It does not mean that tragedy will not strike. It does not mean that I won't fall flat on my face. To me it means that it is my choice. I choose a healthier, happier version of me.
I can't help but be impatient with myself and my limitations because of my weight. But I am trying to believe in my own ability to put one foot down in front of the other. I am trying to believe that we all have that power. I want to believe that this light I see at the end is real.
And, most of the time, I do.
I have discovered that even when I am feeling my worst, I can still make smart choices.
Spring is still not quite here. I am not deterred. We had some lovely sunny days and I began my couch to 5k. I have discovered that the program I am doing is only 3 days so I elected to walk on those other days. But just when I was gaining momentum, I was struck down by what I must only term as embarrassing feminine issues. Being of a certain age, it is bound to happen.
But it took me out of the game for a few days.
And on a holiday weekend.
Still, I managed to pull it off and made a simple dinner for my sister and myself. It was healthy and nutritious and delicious and I was useless the next day.
And yet, for all my inability to get off the couch, I still managed to make good choices. I had some carbs and cheese on Easter so yesterday I was determined to make up for it. And I did. I cut out excess fat and opted for veggies and lower carb fruits. No potatoes. No bread. And I was fine. I never felt hungry or deprived. I even managed to drink my water in between naps. It was a very self-indulgent day and yet I managed to NOT over-indulge. Hubby brought home some candy from the super market and I didn't touch a morsel. Not even a bite of a peanut butter cup (my biggest weakness)...and still I did not feel deprived. I had a yogurt and added some banana and berries and a drizzle of honey. That was my big indulgence for the day.
Anyone reading this who is NOT addicted to food may not understand what a big deal this is. I am managing to get through without even wanting to overeat.
It all started with an idea I had been rolling around in my brain. That idea was born out of all the failed attempts I ever made at weight loss. And by failed I mean that the weight, however long I managed to keep it off-weeks-months-years, always came back. Sometimes it crept back slowly and I managed to quash it before it took me back to where I started. And sometimes it came back with a vengeance doubling or tripling my original weight loss.
How could I start anew, up 100 plus pounds from my last significant (84 pounds) loss? I realized that I had all the tools already in my arsenal. I knew how to eat, how to move. I investigated alternative ideas like switching to whole, clean food. I learned about holistic ways to heal my body and mind. And I prayed. I learned about organic, sustainable foods. I was bombarded with info about all the latest "super foods" (dunt dunt duhh!).
Then I realized knowing all this hasn't done me much good so I decided to change one thing. I changed my mind. I changed my mind about my relationship with food. I decided that I would not diet. I would not weigh in. I would not beat myself up for gaining it back. I would not look too far down the road at how much work I have to do to lose all this weight I've gained. I decided that just worrying about each moment as it arrives is the best way to conquer the negativity that made me think food had any power over me. I replaced the negative with a positive. It has begun to carry over into other areas in life and I am still at the very beginning of this lifelong journey.
On the wall, next to my station at work, is print that reads "Happiness is not a destination, it is a way of life." Why not embrace that as my mantra? It does not mean that tragedy will not strike. It does not mean that I won't fall flat on my face. To me it means that it is my choice. I choose a healthier, happier version of me.
I can't help but be impatient with myself and my limitations because of my weight. But I am trying to believe in my own ability to put one foot down in front of the other. I am trying to believe that we all have that power. I want to believe that this light I see at the end is real.
And, most of the time, I do.
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