Learning how to forgive myself...

Six years ago in August of 2006 I walked into a Weight Watchers meeting for like the umpteenth time since graduating college.

 I went alone.

 I told no one.

 I sat quietly through the meeting tugging at my shirt, uncomfortable in my own skin.

 I sat alone with the leader at the end of the meeting relearning the program, again.

Two weeks before I had no idea I would be doing this.    After spending a week at the beach on vacation with the coach and the athlete and princess, who at the time was only two years old,  I came home and knew something had to change.  I had spent the entire week being forced out of my comfort zone.

You see,  a toddler at the beach doesn't mean sitting and sunbathing and simply staying put.  It means endless walks up and down the long beach in a bathing suit past hundreds and hundreds of people.  And when you are over weight and feeling very vulnerable and exposed in a suit, it's really the last thing you want to do.

But I sucked it up and I did it, day after day.  My saving grace and something I kept telling myself over and over as we trekked up and down the beach was, at least we are far from home and you don't know a single soul out here.

 Pathetic really.  I was so down and beat myself up.  I felt cheated that I couldn't enjoy a wonderful time with my young and curious little girl because once again, my weight was getting in the way.

Those feelings are what made me walk into that meeting room two weeks later.  I felt I had hit rock bottom.

I walked out of those doors with a new sense of determination.  I felt empowered.  I just knew that this time it was going to be different.  This time I was going to reach my goal.  This time I was not going to quit.

I lost 47 pounds that year.  By the time summer rolled around I was the healthiest I had ever been in my life and weighed less than I did when I was in college.  I had followed Weight Watchers to a T.  I would go as far as to call myself a Weight Watcher Psycho, there was not a single week in 8 months that I had a gain on the scale.  The weight came off so easily.  And, don't get me wrong, I worked my ass off at it.  I was walking 3 miles, 5 days a week with the princess in her stroller.  I prepared healthy meals for dinner and even made homemade snacks for the entire family.  (I was also working part time only 2 days a week, which made this all posssible.) 


I swore that I would never go back to being the way I was before.  I told everyone that this was finally the time for me.  This time it would stick.

Fast forward from there six years.  In that time period we bought our first house, I dealt with the grief of losing my grand father so rapidly and unexpectedly from stomach cancer.  I went from working as a part time nanny to opening my own daycare business and working 11 hour days, Monday through Friday.  My children continued to grow up and their extracurricular lives exploded.

Me time became non existent.  I sacrificed myself for the needs of my husband and children.  I put all the time I had into the daycare and running a successful business and being the best wife and mother I could.  Nights I was needed for homework and projects, and after that housework.  On weekends sporting events, and more housework.  I had no time for me anymore.

The results of that have been drastic. And here I sit six years later, now 35 years old,  and I'm back at  a place I swore never to come back to ever again.

I came to the realization several months ago that life is too short to live with regrets.  Sitting wallowing in the past was doing me absolutely no good.  I couldn't change the past, but I could make changes now.   Beating myself up and punishing myself was keeping me on a path I didn't want to be on.  It was keeping me frozen and preventing me from starting over.

I have forgiven myself.  I have moved on.  I am at peace with myself for the first time in a long time.  Instead of saying that I am "trying" to get healthy, I have re-framed my thinking to, I "am living" a healthy lifestyle.

I don't need to wait until I reach my health goals to stop saying trying and switch to living a healthy life.

Am  I where I want to be in terms of physical abilities or weight?

No, not yet.  But I am seeing results every single week on the scale, and in what I am physically capable of doing.  I have mellowed out a little in these past six years.  I am no longer the Weight Watcher Pyscho!  Now I'm  a much older, wiser wife and a mom who really appreciates the life she has been given and wants to make the most out of every day.  The benefits of forgiveness are amazing.

I'm linking up today with Shell's Pour Your Heart Out, over at Things I Can't Say.

Breaking the silence...

I've been writing this blog for a while now and I really enjoy sharing my life with my readers, the funny stuff, the stuff that makes me want to pull my hair out, and of course to document our life as my children continue to change and grow.  One issue that's always on my mind and something that I have struggled with for many years, I have chosen to keep private.   It's something that I've never felt comfortable opening up about on my blog.  I have felt safer keeping  it private all this time.  There were times that I've wanted to share it, but I haven't been ready.  I was hoping that one day I would come to a place where I felt secure enough to open up publicly about my struggle.  I'm not sure what happened to make me change how I feel, but I know that now,  it no longer needs to remain a secret.

I    struggle    with    my    weight.

I have probably since about the eighth grade.  Right around that time,  I remember having to be picky about what shorts I wore because my thighs were bigger and when I walked my thighs would rub together and my shorts would always ride up causing major embarrassment and I would constantly keep pulling them back down.  Those are the first memories I have where my weight started causing issues for me.

In high school I was probably about 20 pounds over weight, not enough so that I was isolated among my peers or made fun of, but just enough to make me terribly self conscious and so afraid to speak or do something wrong that would embarrass me.  If I could have been invisible during my high school years I would have been.  I went on a few crash diets, losing 10 pounds here and there, but because they were super unhealthy and completely unsustainable the weight came back along with a couple extra pounds here and there.

College Years:  I had the same insecurities and issues with weight but it didn't seem to matter as much.  I had several long term boy friends, lots of friends, and seemed to really find myself and come out of my shell.  My freshman year my roommate who was a cheerleader in high school vowed to do what ever it took to not gain the dreaded, "Freshman Fifteen".   I didn't even know what the hell it was at first but once she told me I jumped on board too.  I was already overweight and didn't need to pack on even more.  So the two of us started going to the aerobics classes in the college center every afternoon.  I had never exercised religiously a day in my life let alone taken an aerobics class.  IT WAS TORTURE!  Emotionally and physically.  I was so out of breath and every muscle in my body burned and screamed.  In my head I thought I looked like a fool and I strategically would place myself at the back of the room so no one would be behind me and see me working out.


Something crazy happened that year.  Despite all my fears and my own insecurities, I stuck it out.  I went to those classes, every damn afternoon.  After a while, they started to get easier.  I could keep up with the instructor and the cramps and super huffing and puffing went away.  Before I knew it, I was down about 15 pounds!  Screw gaining the freshman fifteen, I lost them!!  And, I kept them off the entire rest of my college days.  I still had weight to lose but at least I managed to get through 4 years of schooling without getting bigger and bigger.

Senior year I started a part time job off campus at a daycare center, and that's where I met the coach.  He worked there full time and he was my boss!  I finished school, graduated, and moved in with him a couple months later.  Being in a relationship might be wonderful for your heart, but it's bad news for your waist line!  You get comfortable and more relaxed knowing that someone loves you.  You stop being so careful about what your putting in your mouth and the time you spent exercising is now spent with the one you love.  I put those 15 pounds back on all that year plus some and it wasn't just because of poor eating and exercising habits.   Six months after graduating college, on Halloween night, I found out I was pregnant with the athlete.

To be continued...
This entry is part of Shell's PYHO link up...