I’m late with posting a new blog posting. Again. But since I already apologized in a previous post for all the times I would be lax in posting thereafter, I’ll move on…
This wasn’t even the posting that I had originally scheduled to post to this blog – it will come next. Because sometimes life moves really fast and things change and by the grace of God, not always in the wrong way.
After more struggling to lose weight, but more importantly, to get and stay motivated, I’m not sure what actually happened that made me want to say it was time to get drastic. It’s not like I haven’t had plenty of opportunities during my adult life to make the change. It’s not like I didn’t have plenty of embarrassing or hurtful incidences that should have motivated me to make the change. So what changed?
Apparently I did. That is, my mindset. For all of the support I received and it fueled me greatly, it wasn’t enough. I knew that I needed to be the one to make the change. Myself. That no one could do it for me and that if I really wanted it, I would have to step up. I would have to switch it up. I’ve said that before and meant it, but it never stuck.
So 9 days ago it happened. With no fanfare, no big boom and no divine intervention, I finally got a clue. It finally hit me. It was time to get drastic. It was time to fuel my desperation into action. It was time to let my inner beast go.
I had met a nice woman who is a certified Health and Life Coach through a mutual friend. Her name is Maria Riboli and her business is Spoon of Life. spoonoflife.com/home/
We talked and she thought she could help me.
So without even giving it much thought, I agreed to have her help me. I guess you could say that I went in blind. I, honestly, wasn’t sure if she could really help me but I was determined to try. And try hard. So we set up to Skype for 60 minutes on the 9th of February – she’s in New York City and I’m in Ithaca, New York.
We took 90 minutes.
But in that time she laid out only the first week’s plan for me. She said she only wanted us to concentrate on Week #1. It made completely sense. Often I was always worrying about the next week, the next month and it go to be very overwhelming, and eventually, somewhat dejecting. So we were going to concentrate only on Week #1.
Then the bomb dropped.
Now, for someone like me who is inherently lazy about many things, including cooking (I hate it), as she discussed all she wanted me to do or not do during Week #1, I have to admit, I got scared. Really scared.
Like, oh-my-fucking-goodness-I-am-going-to-fail scared. I’ve never been good at staying with something for very long. I talked about it before. Boredom sets in or I grow tired of it and poof – I’m done. Weight Watchers. Tracking my food intake. Watching calories, carbs and fat. Even just recording a food journal. Hell, even keeping up with this blog, no matter how much I love it, it sometimes hard for me to do.
Remember what goes on in my head:
So her plan for Week #1 was, for lack of a better word, aggressive. Frighteningly so. I have never attempted anything so far out of my comfort zone in my life. It wasn’t a “diet”, she stressed that to me. This was a lifestyle change. And this plan was specialized for just me; it’s not meant for others to follow.
So in any case, when you’ve lived the life that I have up until that day, even just hearing about her plans put enough fear into me to make my hatred of spiders look ridiculously minor.hat did I fear?
Well, everything. Fear that I couldn’t do it, having failed so many times before on less aggressive plans. Fear that I was going to disappoint everyone – yet again – and now I had yet another person to potentially disappoint. Fear that it would be so hard that I would weaken and given in. All of it.
Now I’m not going to sit here and tell you it was all a big awesome party for me. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even close. It is by far, save for dealing with my father’s death and my divorce, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It was, however, the hardest thing I’ve ever done about my health. Every day I woke up and wondered if I was going to fail that day. Every day.
But every day I talked myself down from the ledge and told myself to keep going. Told myself that I needed to do this for myself, no one else. And told myself that if it was so hard to do, it was worth doing and I was worth the effort. I had to tell myself this often throughout the day, particular in the first several.
A very sweet guy named Chris, who has worked (writer and director) with my “muse” Brandon posted a message on Facebook to me the other day after I told Brandon (okay whined to Brandon) that I really needed a Brandon-Pick-Me-Up because I was struggling. Now what he said was reiterated to me in parts by others as well so I have to give everyone credit – they are wise words and I appreciate them. I hope Chris doesn’t mine my sharing his post:
So when Chris posted this, I immediately felt better because everyone was agreeing on the same principle:
And honest-to-God, I knew then that I was going to make it. I was going to do this because despite how hard it was, I was already doing it. I’d been doing it for three days already. I was halfway through Week #1 and I was doing it!
I also won’t lie and say it wasn’t without some huge physical and mental issues. I had headaches so bad the first 5 days I really thought I had my head in a vice and I was calling for the guillotine. I was momentarily disgruntled when I would weigh myself in the morning and the damn scale was going up, not down. I was, at times, feeling like I was starving even though I was eating 5 times a day and eating a lot.
I was moody. Really moody. Okay…I was a bitch. Not necessarily towards anyone (and my profound apologies to anyone is I was – it wasn’t intentional), but just overall bitchiness. My emotions were playing havoc on my mindset. And there were times I thought I was losing it – my mind, not the weight.
And I went through moments when I, admittedly, did feel like I couldn’t keep going. My body wasn’t used to this drastic change. And it was rebelling. And it was hating me. And that’s okay. Because I knew what I was doing to it was something good, not bad. It would adjust; I would adjust.
So I kept fighting. And I had help. I had my friends and family behind me. Supporting me.
I did have some friends and family that, while they meant well, out of fear for me and perhaps misunderstanding about what I was doing, did project some negative feelings and comments in response to my moments of bitching. I probably did not help the situation by not explaining more clearly what I was doing but it all became a bit of a mess with hurt feelings all around and whatnot. I’m sorry that happened, but I had to speak up to let everyone know that it was then that I needed them the most as support – not to question what I was doing.
And then it was all good.
So I’m here to say that if I can do this, anyone can. Too many years of not knowing what I was doing or doing it half-assed, I hope is behind me now.
It’s been 7 days and I feel good. But most of all I feel very proud of myself. And that hasn’t happened too often in my lifetime.
Seven pounds in seven days. That a lot of sack of potatoes or flour (see prior posting).
So thank you all again for your continued support and love. It means the world to me.