I have only told a few of my friends here that I am juice fasting. It's not something I want to really advertise. In the beginning it was because I really didn't have much faith in myself to be able to do it. Now--I don't know. I guess it's just kind of a personal journey of self mastery. Kind of how I imagine it to be when, in some cultures, a young man is sent off on a journey or a quest to find himself--to come back a man.
Here I am, on this journey. Really, it's about self discovery as well as self mastery.
I told my mom and my sisters that if I manage to do a juice fast for 60 days, it will be the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Harder than waiting so long for Jared to come along (I was married at 25, people!) Harder than earning my master's degree. Harder than making it through two deployments. Harder, even, than burying my precious 3 month old son.
What will I be like at the end? Will I truly be able to overcome? My thoughts are that I will have spent so long on juice, that I will finally have a truly clean slate, and be able to begin rebuilding my relationship with food. Building it into what it should have been in the first place. My greatest wish for a long time was that self mastery over food came as naturally to me as keeping my house clean. Why can't it? Why can't I just eat food like a normal person, without it taking over my life?
I may always have to focus really hard on what I'm doing in order to not slip up. I may never have the luxury of having good eating habits just come naturally to me. But I truly do think that this journey will help at least make it possible for me to win a fight I have fought, and lost, so many times.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
My Own Total Immersion Therapy
One Sunday we were getting ready to have company for dinner. We were in the kitchen making baked spaghetti and meatballs and salad, and I commented to Jared that I wonder why in the world life had all the sudden become so unbearably stressful. What in the world gives? Why, when nothing had really changed, had my ability to handle it all seemed to crumble?
And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn't eating.
I wasn't eating.
In the past, I have thought about my eating triggers. Some people eat when they're really happy, some people turn to food when they're sad, upset, whatever. And some people turn to food when they're stressed. I know for sure that I'm a happy eater--food, for me, completes the ideal picture. There's nothing better than sitting down in a perfectly clean, quiet house, watching t.v. at the end of a long day, and eating something yummy. It's not the same if the house is messy, because the food isn't as enjoyable if everything isn't perfect. So it's like the cherry on top of everything good and nice and perfect. (I do know that I am OCD. That is another subject for another day).
I also know that I am a stress eater. I've known that for a while. At least, I've known it in theory.
And now, I wasn't eating. This particular Sunday was the first day of my third week on juice. I hadn't eaten food for 2 weeks. (No, I'm not hungry. I get hungry like a normal person at mealtime, and when I have my juice I'm not hungry anymore for several hours).
I realized, very strongly, at that point, that my stress was through the roof because I had spent two weeks not unwinding at the end of the day. Food was my outlet. It made everything in my crazy world calm down for me. It relaxed me. It took my stress away, and it did a very good job of it, apparently. I stopped eating, and all the sudden my stress had nowhere to go. So it built, and built, and built. Which is why, a couple of times, I actually crawled in my bed and cried. Crying was my bodies attempt at an outlet for the stress.
I realized that day, that I was experiencing an unexpected blessing from this juice fast. Agent Jackson Leeds had to stay in his dark room for a couple of days and learn how to talk to himself down when he started to panic. My dark room is the juice fast. In a world where I can't leave my every day life and lock myself away somewhere to learn that I'll be okay without treats several times a day, or huge portions of cheesy or bready or greasy food, I have been given an amazing gift. I believe with all my heart that Heavenly Father is answering my prayers in ways I never could have predicted. During my juice fast, I can't even eat an apple to de-stress. I cannot turn to food, and so I am forced to figure out how to deal with life like a normal person.
There is no doubt in my mind that food took away all my stress. But I also know, just as surely, that it was a very wrong and destructive way to handle it. It has been two weeks since that Sunday, and I am happy to say that I do a lot better. I'm not totally cured of stress or anything, and I still have a ways to go to get where I need to be stress-wise, but it's been a while since I've hidden in my room or cried. And the weight I had started to feel pushing down on me is not pushing quite as hard.
I'm definitely not finished. I have just completed day 28--4 weeks on the juice fast. And I can clearly see that there is so much more for me to learn and discover. There is no way I'm done!
I have only just begun.
And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn't eating.
I wasn't eating.
In the past, I have thought about my eating triggers. Some people eat when they're really happy, some people turn to food when they're sad, upset, whatever. And some people turn to food when they're stressed. I know for sure that I'm a happy eater--food, for me, completes the ideal picture. There's nothing better than sitting down in a perfectly clean, quiet house, watching t.v. at the end of a long day, and eating something yummy. It's not the same if the house is messy, because the food isn't as enjoyable if everything isn't perfect. So it's like the cherry on top of everything good and nice and perfect. (I do know that I am OCD. That is another subject for another day).
I also know that I am a stress eater. I've known that for a while. At least, I've known it in theory.
And now, I wasn't eating. This particular Sunday was the first day of my third week on juice. I hadn't eaten food for 2 weeks. (No, I'm not hungry. I get hungry like a normal person at mealtime, and when I have my juice I'm not hungry anymore for several hours).
I realized, very strongly, at that point, that my stress was through the roof because I had spent two weeks not unwinding at the end of the day. Food was my outlet. It made everything in my crazy world calm down for me. It relaxed me. It took my stress away, and it did a very good job of it, apparently. I stopped eating, and all the sudden my stress had nowhere to go. So it built, and built, and built. Which is why, a couple of times, I actually crawled in my bed and cried. Crying was my bodies attempt at an outlet for the stress.
I realized that day, that I was experiencing an unexpected blessing from this juice fast. Agent Jackson Leeds had to stay in his dark room for a couple of days and learn how to talk to himself down when he started to panic. My dark room is the juice fast. In a world where I can't leave my every day life and lock myself away somewhere to learn that I'll be okay without treats several times a day, or huge portions of cheesy or bready or greasy food, I have been given an amazing gift. I believe with all my heart that Heavenly Father is answering my prayers in ways I never could have predicted. During my juice fast, I can't even eat an apple to de-stress. I cannot turn to food, and so I am forced to figure out how to deal with life like a normal person.
There is no doubt in my mind that food took away all my stress. But I also know, just as surely, that it was a very wrong and destructive way to handle it. It has been two weeks since that Sunday, and I am happy to say that I do a lot better. I'm not totally cured of stress or anything, and I still have a ways to go to get where I need to be stress-wise, but it's been a while since I've hidden in my room or cried. And the weight I had started to feel pushing down on me is not pushing quite as hard.
I'm definitely not finished. I have just completed day 28--4 weeks on the juice fast. And I can clearly see that there is so much more for me to learn and discover. There is no way I'm done!
I have only just begun.
The Stress Factor
Somehow, my already stressful life seemed to go into complete overdrive. My crazy kids were ten times crazier. The classes I subbed were ten times more difficult. The mess at home that we had to clean up every night was ten times messier. Everything started spinning way out of control. I didn't have time for all the meetings for primary, but I went to them anyway because I didn't have a choice. The primary responsibilities seemed ten times harder to fulfill. I couldn't remember things because I was under so much pressure I thought I would explode.
I told Jared before I started the juice fast that it was going to be hard. I mean, I love food. Duh. I imagined that sometimes the only thing that would keep me from ruining it all and eating dinner with the family, or whatever, would be for me to go in my room and lock the door and crawl in bed and cry. (Crying over food? Really? What have I become???)
The first few days I was fine with the food. No hiding in my room. Sometimes the smell of dinner did drive me crazy. I never thought I would actually go eat it, but sometimes I did just have to get away from the smell. So I did go in my room and get in bed. I'd hide under the covers and read my book so that I could get my mind off the amazing smells.
**I think it's also important to note here that Jared cooks dinner almost every night, which is a HUGE help with my juicing.
There have been several times when I just couldn't handle being around everyone eating. There have been more than that that I have been just fine for, but some days it's just too much.
One Friday I worked all day in a particularly difficult class, and when I got home I had to immediately turn around and go to a primary presidency meeting. That meeting lasted 2 hours and could have gone longer. And when I got home it was late enough that I expected the girls would be in bed. I planned to make a juice and just chill for a while. But when I walked in the door, the smell of pizza filled the air, and there everyone was. Eating pizza and watching a movie. Nothing wrong with that at all! But it had been such a long day, and I couldn't handle it. So I went straight upstairs and got in bed. And I cried. I sobbed. And eventually I calmed down and read a book and went to sleep. And the next morning, I went downstairs and it looked like a kid-frat party had happened. !!! It was a mess. There was pizza crust on the floor, paper plates all around, leftover pizza on the counter--for real? Is this what they are like when I'm not there to make them clean up their mess??? (Kind of funny, actually).
No doubt about it, juicing was stressing me to the max. I was always at risk of being pushed beyond my limit. I was yelling at everyone, and just not a happy person at all.
I told Jared before I started the juice fast that it was going to be hard. I mean, I love food. Duh. I imagined that sometimes the only thing that would keep me from ruining it all and eating dinner with the family, or whatever, would be for me to go in my room and lock the door and crawl in bed and cry. (Crying over food? Really? What have I become???)
The first few days I was fine with the food. No hiding in my room. Sometimes the smell of dinner did drive me crazy. I never thought I would actually go eat it, but sometimes I did just have to get away from the smell. So I did go in my room and get in bed. I'd hide under the covers and read my book so that I could get my mind off the amazing smells.
**I think it's also important to note here that Jared cooks dinner almost every night, which is a HUGE help with my juicing.
There have been several times when I just couldn't handle being around everyone eating. There have been more than that that I have been just fine for, but some days it's just too much.
One Friday I worked all day in a particularly difficult class, and when I got home I had to immediately turn around and go to a primary presidency meeting. That meeting lasted 2 hours and could have gone longer. And when I got home it was late enough that I expected the girls would be in bed. I planned to make a juice and just chill for a while. But when I walked in the door, the smell of pizza filled the air, and there everyone was. Eating pizza and watching a movie. Nothing wrong with that at all! But it had been such a long day, and I couldn't handle it. So I went straight upstairs and got in bed. And I cried. I sobbed. And eventually I calmed down and read a book and went to sleep. And the next morning, I went downstairs and it looked like a kid-frat party had happened. !!! It was a mess. There was pizza crust on the floor, paper plates all around, leftover pizza on the counter--for real? Is this what they are like when I'm not there to make them clean up their mess??? (Kind of funny, actually).
No doubt about it, juicing was stressing me to the max. I was always at risk of being pushed beyond my limit. I was yelling at everyone, and just not a happy person at all.
The First Couple of Days
In the beginning, I was very good at staying away from the scale. I did weigh myself on the morning of day 1, and then did not step on again until a week was over. During that week, I focused on how I felt. I remember the noticeable energy I felt one day. I also noticed that the constant swelling of my entire body had gone down. (I hadn't particularly noticed swelling all over my body before, just my hands. But when it was gone, I realized it had been there). I noticed my clothes fitting better almost right away. Not to the point of needing a smaller size, but definitely that they were more comfortable and easier to wear. That was awesome, and it was good encouragement to keep going.
That week we had Monday and Tuesday off school, so I didn't actually go back to work until day 4. I wasn't sure how it was all going to work, but it did fall into place rather nicely. My frozen juice was slushy by lunch time, and it all worked out.
Day 5 or so I was at my kids' school subbing, and I went into the staff room for something, and there was crap all over the table. Donuts, muffins, candy, chocolate covered pretzels--you name it. And it was all for the taking. I didn't really want it, but I did look at it and reflect on what I'd be doing if I weren't juicing. And I just kind of walked out not even knowing what to think. They keep the key to the bathroom in the staff room, so I went back in a couple of times during the day, and it was just kind of weird to look at that table and wonder why food was such a difficult thing in my life. I wasn't fighting to say no to it, because I wasn't tempted to eat it at all.
It just made me sad to look at it.
That week we had Monday and Tuesday off school, so I didn't actually go back to work until day 4. I wasn't sure how it was all going to work, but it did fall into place rather nicely. My frozen juice was slushy by lunch time, and it all worked out.
Day 5 or so I was at my kids' school subbing, and I went into the staff room for something, and there was crap all over the table. Donuts, muffins, candy, chocolate covered pretzels--you name it. And it was all for the taking. I didn't really want it, but I did look at it and reflect on what I'd be doing if I weren't juicing. And I just kind of walked out not even knowing what to think. They keep the key to the bathroom in the staff room, so I went back in a couple of times during the day, and it was just kind of weird to look at that table and wonder why food was such a difficult thing in my life. I wasn't fighting to say no to it, because I wasn't tempted to eat it at all.
It just made me sad to look at it.
The Movie
I watched Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead again. Jared watched it with me. Again.
I paid extra attention during the parts when Joe, and the Siong, and then Phil, talked about how the first few days were. They said they were in kind of a fog. Joe said he just wanted to stay in bed all day. It was easier to sleep than to think about not eating. He stayed in his apartment (hotel?) pretty much the whole first 3 days or so. (I think?) It showed Phil kind of in a fog, too--kind of groggy and stuff.
And there I was. I guess I felt kind of like I was in a fog. I don't know. I definitely did not get the headaches I expected to get from detoxing. Day 3 or so you're supposed to feel just awful, because your body is working on getting rid of all those toxins. But not me, I felt fine. I wondered if it's because I have juice fasted before, or because I've done other pretty major cleanses. But what I think is really the case is that I had spent a couple of years eating so bad, it was going to take longer to detox, and that maybe it would not happen all at once. I really don't know what to expect.
But watching the movie again really helped me, because this time I watched it with the idea that I'd do the entire 60 days. And the focus here is not weight loss, really, so I decided I would not haunt the scale every day. I wanted to go 60 days so that I would have time to really cure myself of all those things I almost have. And I wanted to think more about how I felt than what the numbers on the scale said.
I have watched the movie another couple of times since I started the fast, and it is always fun to see. It is available to watch on netflix, and it is also available to watch for free on Joe's website, fatsickandnearlydead.com.
It is also interesting and inspiring to click over from there onto Joe's blog and read the success stories from tons of other people who have done juice fasts, or who have just incorporated juice into their daily intake. It doesn't have to be a fast! Simply adding green juice to your life can work miracles. =)
(This is not to say that I think everyone out there should start juice fasting, or that that is the only reason to watch the movie. Even if you know you'll never, ever want to juice anything, it's a fun and educational watch).
I paid extra attention during the parts when Joe, and the Siong, and then Phil, talked about how the first few days were. They said they were in kind of a fog. Joe said he just wanted to stay in bed all day. It was easier to sleep than to think about not eating. He stayed in his apartment (hotel?) pretty much the whole first 3 days or so. (I think?) It showed Phil kind of in a fog, too--kind of groggy and stuff.
And there I was. I guess I felt kind of like I was in a fog. I don't know. I definitely did not get the headaches I expected to get from detoxing. Day 3 or so you're supposed to feel just awful, because your body is working on getting rid of all those toxins. But not me, I felt fine. I wondered if it's because I have juice fasted before, or because I've done other pretty major cleanses. But what I think is really the case is that I had spent a couple of years eating so bad, it was going to take longer to detox, and that maybe it would not happen all at once. I really don't know what to expect.
But watching the movie again really helped me, because this time I watched it with the idea that I'd do the entire 60 days. And the focus here is not weight loss, really, so I decided I would not haunt the scale every day. I wanted to go 60 days so that I would have time to really cure myself of all those things I almost have. And I wanted to think more about how I felt than what the numbers on the scale said.
I have watched the movie another couple of times since I started the fast, and it is always fun to see. It is available to watch on netflix, and it is also available to watch for free on Joe's website, fatsickandnearlydead.com.
It is also interesting and inspiring to click over from there onto Joe's blog and read the success stories from tons of other people who have done juice fasts, or who have just incorporated juice into their daily intake. It doesn't have to be a fast! Simply adding green juice to your life can work miracles. =)
(This is not to say that I think everyone out there should start juice fasting, or that that is the only reason to watch the movie. Even if you know you'll never, ever want to juice anything, it's a fun and educational watch).
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Happy Valentine's Day
February 14 was a very hard day for me. There was no school that day, so the kids and I stayed home getting things done. It was quite the stressful day, for a lot of reasons. By the end of it I was tired and grumpy, and no fun to be around at all. I hate days like that. And it certainly wasn't very Valentine-y.
February 15, however, was the Valentine's Day of my dreams. No big romantic date, no fancy getaway, no major gifts, but it was one of the best Valentine's Days I've ever had. I went grocery shopping and bought all kinds of stuff for juicing, still kind of wondering if I was really going to do it.
And that night, after all the kids went to bed, Jared brought out a giant heart-shaped box of chocolates that had stayed hidden the day before because of how rough the day had been. The two of us sat on the couch watching t.v., and together we ate the entire box of chocolates.
And February 16, I started juicing.
While we're on the subject of Valentine's Day, a word about Jared.
I don't know where I would be in this life without him. I love that man more than I could ever put into words, and I would choose him a million times if I had to go back and do it all over again.
Jared is a man who had to lose 45 pounds or so just to get into the military. And he did it. And he went to basic training and had the tar kicked out of him, and became an exercising machine. It still isn't his favorite thing in the world, but when you have a job that comes with weight limits, you figure out a thing or two. He has become a runner. He's not a super buff athlete or anything, and he always just barely makes weight when he has to weigh in. He struggles with food. Definitely not to the degree that I do, but it's a challenge for him, too.
As I have mentioned before, weight has been my issue of a lifetime. It has literally been with me my entire life. I was not a slender bride, by any stretch of the imagination. For the last almost 14 years, Jared has been by my side--when I've been smaller, when I've been bigger--and now, at the very worst I have ever been, EVER, he treats me no different than he ever has. There have been times when I have been in such despair over my weight, when I've convinced myself that I don't deserve him to love me, so he must not. And every single time, he unknowingly does something that wipes away any doubt in my mind that he loves me just as much now as when I was much smaller. I don't know how he does it, honestly. He has never, ever said anything to me about what I was eating, or how much I was eating, or that I should work on losing weight, or that I should stop pulling my hair back all tight--he loves me the same, always.
I am so grateful for that. I think it would crush me if he were to even hint that I'm harder to love when I'm fat. All he does is support me, stand by me, and treat me the same. He doesn't try to convince me why I should do this or that, he just lets me do what I'm going to do. And I really believe that because he is that way, he has allowed me to do this for myself. I may not have gone this far downhill if he had said something to me, but I would be working on it for all the wrong reasons. I really love that I can be on this journey for all the right reasons, without the strain of having to wonder if he would love me less if I struggled more.
I am truly blessed.
Logistics
Juicing is not easy. First you have to buy tons and tons and tons of produce, and have somewhere to keep it. Luckily for me, that's not too big a problem. We have an extra fridge in the garage.
You have to decide what juice recipes you're going to use, make your shopping list, and buy the stuff. But then you have to wash it and all that. And you have to wash the juicer, and that's a HUGE pain in the neck.
Juice begins to lose its nutritional value as soon as it is extracted. It is best to drink juice within 20 minutes of making it. (One reason why all those juices in the stores--odwalla, naked juice, etc.) are pretty much useless. So how in the world was I going to manage juicing and working full time? I know I'm "just" a substitute =) but I do work pretty much every single day. I decided that at night, I would make 2 juices, and stick one in the freezer. I'd take it out of the freezer in the morning, and by lunch it would be thawed. Not the ideal freshness, but close enough, and a way to be able to do what I need to do.
Cleaning the juicer--I usually just rinse it out after I make my morning juice, and then at night after I have made my night juice and my lunch juice for the next day, I scrub it out with baking soda. That seems to work pretty well.
I also find it easier to make juice packs. I take everything I need for a juice, and stick it all in a plastic grocery bag in the fridge. I make enough packs for 4 days at a time. Then when it's time to make juice, I just have to grab a pack, dump the stuff out on the counter, and use the bag as a liner in the pulp catcher part of the juicer. Works very nicely, if I do say so myself! It saves me a lot of time.
You have to decide what juice recipes you're going to use, make your shopping list, and buy the stuff. But then you have to wash it and all that. And you have to wash the juicer, and that's a HUGE pain in the neck.
Juice begins to lose its nutritional value as soon as it is extracted. It is best to drink juice within 20 minutes of making it. (One reason why all those juices in the stores--odwalla, naked juice, etc.) are pretty much useless. So how in the world was I going to manage juicing and working full time? I know I'm "just" a substitute =) but I do work pretty much every single day. I decided that at night, I would make 2 juices, and stick one in the freezer. I'd take it out of the freezer in the morning, and by lunch it would be thawed. Not the ideal freshness, but close enough, and a way to be able to do what I need to do.
Cleaning the juicer--I usually just rinse it out after I make my morning juice, and then at night after I have made my night juice and my lunch juice for the next day, I scrub it out with baking soda. That seems to work pretty well.
I also find it easier to make juice packs. I take everything I need for a juice, and stick it all in a plastic grocery bag in the fridge. I make enough packs for 4 days at a time. Then when it's time to make juice, I just have to grab a pack, dump the stuff out on the counter, and use the bag as a liner in the pulp catcher part of the juicer. Works very nicely, if I do say so myself! It saves me a lot of time.
Do or Die
One day I realized that I didn't have time for small changes. Small changes may be good because they're the lasting ones, but my reality became wondering when I was going to collapse--when my body was going to finally rebel against the way I was treating it. And because this is an addiction for me, even knowing that was not enough to make me change. That was very hard for me, because I know better! I fully well know better. I love my husband. I love my kids. I love my life. And yet day after day after day, I kept choosing food, knowing that eventually I would lose it all because I would die way too young.
There is no defining moment I can identify when I had the aha about what I should do. It ever so softly just became a reality for me. I had to do something fast, or I was going to die. I knew it, even though all the tests for all those diseases came back fine. Not everyone gets diagnosably sick first, some people just keel over and die.
It is very scary for me to remember a couple of times when I honestly started to accept the fact that I was just going to die in my 30s, and that was okay because that's just the way it is for me. Food is too important. How is it that someone with my amazing life, and my undeniable beliefs, could just accept that? This is what it means to have an addiction. It distorts reality. I understand. I truly understand. For anyone who has suffered it…we may not all have the same brand of addiction, but I know what it's like to go down that path. I have never tasted alcohol, never touched a cigarette, never been tempted with drugs, but I get addiction. Food, the stuff that keeps us alive, was killing me.
And like a whisper, slowly and quietly, the knowledge that I needed to do a real juice fast was right there in the forefront of my mind.
But that's extreme, I thought. I can't do that. Extremes sabotage me every time. Besides, I've tried to do that before and I just can't.
But I knew.
For about 3 weeks I mentally prepared. Valentine's Day. I'd start after Valentine's Day. It was far enough off that I didn't have to really deal with it like reality. I'd tell myself I was going to do it, wondering if I was lying to myself. I'm a person with no food rules at all. Do you know what that means about the way I'd been eating? How can a person just flip the switch like that? I don't know. I only knew that it was do or die time. A for real matter of life and death. And I hoped like nothing else that that would be important enough to me.
There is no defining moment I can identify when I had the aha about what I should do. It ever so softly just became a reality for me. I had to do something fast, or I was going to die. I knew it, even though all the tests for all those diseases came back fine. Not everyone gets diagnosably sick first, some people just keel over and die.
It is very scary for me to remember a couple of times when I honestly started to accept the fact that I was just going to die in my 30s, and that was okay because that's just the way it is for me. Food is too important. How is it that someone with my amazing life, and my undeniable beliefs, could just accept that? This is what it means to have an addiction. It distorts reality. I understand. I truly understand. For anyone who has suffered it…we may not all have the same brand of addiction, but I know what it's like to go down that path. I have never tasted alcohol, never touched a cigarette, never been tempted with drugs, but I get addiction. Food, the stuff that keeps us alive, was killing me.
And like a whisper, slowly and quietly, the knowledge that I needed to do a real juice fast was right there in the forefront of my mind.
But that's extreme, I thought. I can't do that. Extremes sabotage me every time. Besides, I've tried to do that before and I just can't.
But I knew.
For about 3 weeks I mentally prepared. Valentine's Day. I'd start after Valentine's Day. It was far enough off that I didn't have to really deal with it like reality. I'd tell myself I was going to do it, wondering if I was lying to myself. I'm a person with no food rules at all. Do you know what that means about the way I'd been eating? How can a person just flip the switch like that? I don't know. I only knew that it was do or die time. A for real matter of life and death. And I hoped like nothing else that that would be important enough to me.
Enter Joe Cross
Or re-enter, actually.
In October 2011, right before I went out to Hawaii for my dream week with my main man, I watched Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead, a documentary on juicing by a man named Joe Cross. Contrary to my preconceived notions about "documentaries," this one was actually a very entertaining movie, along with being very informative and inspiring.
Joe Cross, an Australian man who was on quite a bit of medication for various things, who was fat and sick and--well, nearly dead, decided to try out a 60 day juice fast. During his first 30 days he stuck around New York City, talking to people all over the place about health and nutrition, sharing samples of his juice, etc. During his last 30 days he took a road trip across the entire United States, meeting people and talking to them about health. During his 60 day juice fast, he lost 80 pounds and dramatically reduced the amount of meds he had to take. On day 61, he began a new journey on a plant based, or micronutrient, diet. (In other words, vegan). He stayed 100% plant based until he was completely off all of his medication, and then went to allowing himself 2 meals a week that did not have to be vegan. And he has lived that way ever since.
During his road trip, he met a guy named Phil who had the same rare disease he had. One day, back in Australia, Joe got a call from Phil, who had decided to accept the challenge of a juice fast, along with Joe's offer of help and support. So Joe flew back to the U.S. and helped Phil get himself started. Originally Phil planned on 10 days, but he ended up also sticking with it for 60. During that time he got his whole community trying out juicing. Not necessarily juice fasting, but adding juice to their daily diets. During his 60 days, Phil lost 91 pounds, and also continued plant based afterward, and ridding himself of all medications.
Joe also inspired a woman named Siong to try juice fasting. She set out to do 10 days, but went 17. Afterward she continued to juice every day as part of her regular diet. After her 17 day juice fast, she never again experienced the debilitating migraines that had plagued her life for years.
In October 2011, right before I went out to Hawaii for my dream week with my main man, I watched Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead, a documentary on juicing by a man named Joe Cross. Contrary to my preconceived notions about "documentaries," this one was actually a very entertaining movie, along with being very informative and inspiring.
Joe Cross, an Australian man who was on quite a bit of medication for various things, who was fat and sick and--well, nearly dead, decided to try out a 60 day juice fast. During his first 30 days he stuck around New York City, talking to people all over the place about health and nutrition, sharing samples of his juice, etc. During his last 30 days he took a road trip across the entire United States, meeting people and talking to them about health. During his 60 day juice fast, he lost 80 pounds and dramatically reduced the amount of meds he had to take. On day 61, he began a new journey on a plant based, or micronutrient, diet. (In other words, vegan). He stayed 100% plant based until he was completely off all of his medication, and then went to allowing himself 2 meals a week that did not have to be vegan. And he has lived that way ever since.
During his road trip, he met a guy named Phil who had the same rare disease he had. One day, back in Australia, Joe got a call from Phil, who had decided to accept the challenge of a juice fast, along with Joe's offer of help and support. So Joe flew back to the U.S. and helped Phil get himself started. Originally Phil planned on 10 days, but he ended up also sticking with it for 60. During that time he got his whole community trying out juicing. Not necessarily juice fasting, but adding juice to their daily diets. During his 60 days, Phil lost 91 pounds, and also continued plant based afterward, and ridding himself of all medications.
Joe also inspired a woman named Siong to try juice fasting. She set out to do 10 days, but went 17. Afterward she continued to juice every day as part of her regular diet. After her 17 day juice fast, she never again experienced the debilitating migraines that had plagued her life for years.
Doctor, Doctor
Last summer I ended up at the doctor's office for some plantar's warts. It involved several follow up visits, and on one of those visits my blood pressure was a little high.
That has NEVER happened to me in my life, other than at the end of my pregnancy with Kamryn. My blood pressure has always been perfect. I told the doc I wanted to handle it with diet rather than medication--although he hadn't even suggested medication. It was not dangerously high, just definitely something to keep an eye on. I'd been to enough appointments with this doctor that I knew I liked him, so that made talking about diet a little easier.
He suggested an appointment with a nutritionist. I normally don't go for that kind of thing, because I don't really agree with the current food guide pyramid. (Like I can even talk, right?) But I agreed, telling myself that I should give it another try. Last time I saw a nutritionist was in Georgia probably 10 years ago, and I was not impressed. But I knew I needed something--and a nutritionist could give me some accountability I was desperate for. He said to come prepared with a week's worth of food journaling to discuss with the nutritionist. So I set the appointment.
In addition to that, I agreed for them to run all the blood tests on me for cholesterol, diabetes, blah blah blah, on and on. Everything I was "at risk" for. I admit it, this time I was nervous. I was just sure, knowing how awful my diet had been for so long, that I would get a horrible diagnosis.
Amazingly enough, the tests came back and I had NOTHING. So no pills, none of that. Thank Heavens! Literally.
The day came, and I showed up for my appointment with the nutritionist. Turns out there was a mix up with the location, and I should have gone all the way to post (which is a half hour away), so the appointment had to be rescheduled. I was told someone would call me to reschedule it.
When the call came, the lady told me that the appointment I missed was a one on one with a nutritionist, but that was a mistake, that the doc had referred me for a nutrition class rather than a one on one. So she rescheduled me for a class. THAT was a huge bummer for me, because I didn't need a class. Believe it or not, as fat as I am, I know a lot about nutrition. I have spent a lot of time learning all about nutrition. I know how to eat right, my problem is doing it. What I really needed was that one on one appointment where someone would sit there with me and only me, and talk about my eating and help me figure out how to incorporate what I know without going to the extreme.
Easy come, easy go. My life was busy and complicated, and I had started working, so I cancelled the class appointment and I haven't been back to the doctor since. (For lack of time, not because I am avoiding it).
That has NEVER happened to me in my life, other than at the end of my pregnancy with Kamryn. My blood pressure has always been perfect. I told the doc I wanted to handle it with diet rather than medication--although he hadn't even suggested medication. It was not dangerously high, just definitely something to keep an eye on. I'd been to enough appointments with this doctor that I knew I liked him, so that made talking about diet a little easier.
He suggested an appointment with a nutritionist. I normally don't go for that kind of thing, because I don't really agree with the current food guide pyramid. (Like I can even talk, right?) But I agreed, telling myself that I should give it another try. Last time I saw a nutritionist was in Georgia probably 10 years ago, and I was not impressed. But I knew I needed something--and a nutritionist could give me some accountability I was desperate for. He said to come prepared with a week's worth of food journaling to discuss with the nutritionist. So I set the appointment.
In addition to that, I agreed for them to run all the blood tests on me for cholesterol, diabetes, blah blah blah, on and on. Everything I was "at risk" for. I admit it, this time I was nervous. I was just sure, knowing how awful my diet had been for so long, that I would get a horrible diagnosis.
Amazingly enough, the tests came back and I had NOTHING. So no pills, none of that. Thank Heavens! Literally.
The day came, and I showed up for my appointment with the nutritionist. Turns out there was a mix up with the location, and I should have gone all the way to post (which is a half hour away), so the appointment had to be rescheduled. I was told someone would call me to reschedule it.
When the call came, the lady told me that the appointment I missed was a one on one with a nutritionist, but that was a mistake, that the doc had referred me for a nutrition class rather than a one on one. So she rescheduled me for a class. THAT was a huge bummer for me, because I didn't need a class. Believe it or not, as fat as I am, I know a lot about nutrition. I have spent a lot of time learning all about nutrition. I know how to eat right, my problem is doing it. What I really needed was that one on one appointment where someone would sit there with me and only me, and talk about my eating and help me figure out how to incorporate what I know without going to the extreme.
Easy come, easy go. My life was busy and complicated, and I had started working, so I cancelled the class appointment and I haven't been back to the doctor since. (For lack of time, not because I am avoiding it).
Total Immersion Therapy
I love to read. I recently read the Dickens Inn series by Anita Stansfield.
In this series, Agent Jackson Leeds was beaten and abused as a child, by his father. He grew up to spend years in the marines, and also as an FBI agent. Toward the end of his career as an agent, (and just after overcoming his addiction to alcohol) he was abducted by drug lords in South America, and came back with severe, severe, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He got counseling and went on his merry way, only to discover that he was still suffering the effects of his ordeal, to a sever enough disagree that one day he drove himself to the hospital and checked himself into the psych ward.
While in the psych ward, a doctor talked with him and decided to put him through total immersion therapy. This involved staying in one room for several days. The doctor stayed with him for the first few. Because Jackson had difficulty dealing with darkness, the first day or two the lights were on all day, and turned off at night. During the night when he suffered his terribly nightmares, the doctor was there to help him deal with it. Gradually, the room was dark for longer and longer periods of time, until Jackson was able to stay in a completely dark room for 2 full days, without the doctor there.
As I read the story, I wished so badly that I could just go check myself in somewhere and not leave until I was free from this horrible addiction that has its painful clutches in me. But even if there were somewhere I could go, and money wasn't an object, what about my husband and kids? What about my job, my life, my calling? I am definitely in no position in life right now where I can just disappear for a while. But I desperately wished I could. I try, and I try, and I try, and I try, and I commit to myself over and over and over again, only to fall flat on my face. And for what? Lousy food. Are you kidding me? Why? Why in the world does food have such power over me? WHY???
Where is my total immersion therapy? It's not like I can just quit eating for the rest of my life. So what can I do? Where can I turn? What is going to finally help me?
I have prayed. And prayed. And prayed. I went to the temple specifically for strength to do--what, exactly, I didn't know. There didn't seem to be an answer for me. At least, not one I knew of yet. And truly, this kind of deal is not something that can be fixed quickly or easily. Digging deep and figuring stuff out is hard. And time consuming. And painful. But it has to be, if it's going to be real.
In this series, Agent Jackson Leeds was beaten and abused as a child, by his father. He grew up to spend years in the marines, and also as an FBI agent. Toward the end of his career as an agent, (and just after overcoming his addiction to alcohol) he was abducted by drug lords in South America, and came back with severe, severe, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He got counseling and went on his merry way, only to discover that he was still suffering the effects of his ordeal, to a sever enough disagree that one day he drove himself to the hospital and checked himself into the psych ward.
While in the psych ward, a doctor talked with him and decided to put him through total immersion therapy. This involved staying in one room for several days. The doctor stayed with him for the first few. Because Jackson had difficulty dealing with darkness, the first day or two the lights were on all day, and turned off at night. During the night when he suffered his terribly nightmares, the doctor was there to help him deal with it. Gradually, the room was dark for longer and longer periods of time, until Jackson was able to stay in a completely dark room for 2 full days, without the doctor there.
As I read the story, I wished so badly that I could just go check myself in somewhere and not leave until I was free from this horrible addiction that has its painful clutches in me. But even if there were somewhere I could go, and money wasn't an object, what about my husband and kids? What about my job, my life, my calling? I am definitely in no position in life right now where I can just disappear for a while. But I desperately wished I could. I try, and I try, and I try, and I try, and I commit to myself over and over and over again, only to fall flat on my face. And for what? Lousy food. Are you kidding me? Why? Why in the world does food have such power over me? WHY???
Where is my total immersion therapy? It's not like I can just quit eating for the rest of my life. So what can I do? Where can I turn? What is going to finally help me?
I have prayed. And prayed. And prayed. I went to the temple specifically for strength to do--what, exactly, I didn't know. There didn't seem to be an answer for me. At least, not one I knew of yet. And truly, this kind of deal is not something that can be fixed quickly or easily. Digging deep and figuring stuff out is hard. And time consuming. And painful. But it has to be, if it's going to be real.
Addiction
It finally sank in to me that I have a food addiction. I'm not sure I want to share all the gory (or cheesy?) details. But as I have lived my "no food rules" life here, I identified--several times--that my behavior was destructive and was leading me down a path I did not want to go.
Every night I would go to bed, vowing to do better the next day. I would wake up with new determination to follow some kind of guidelines. And then I'd go downstairs and real life would start, and I didn't have an ounce of discipline to stick to what I promised myself I'd do. I'd get the cereal down for the kids, and totally cave, eating 2 or 3 bowls myself. And after that, I was in no mood for "healthy" food the rest of the day. And then I'd go upstairs at night and wonder why in the world I did that, and make the same promises to myself that I'd made the night before.
Eventually I just stopped caring at all. My clothes would get tight and I'd just get more. I hated what I was doing to myself, so I stopped paying attention. No more mirrors--I did my makeup on a tiny little mirror in a compact. I stopped fixing my hair--I've been tight ponytail girl every day for longer than I care to admit. No pictures, no mirrors, no thinking about it. Because I didn't know what to think! I didn't know what kinds of rules to follow, because I was so terrified of working hard to lose it again if I was not losing it for good.
My main addiction is sugar, although I can't claim that all the other horribly bad food out there isn't part of it. I just love yummy food, and I love a lot of it. My portions are out of control, and sugar reigns supreme. It got to the point that no matter how much I wanted to change it, I couldn't.
I started wondering when I was going to have a heart attack, or when I was just going to drop dead because my body couldn't handle it anymore. And even that wasn't enough to make me stop. I thought about all the things I have to live for, and all the things I want to do with this life, and I thought about Jared and the kids and how much I really just want to be healthy enough to suck the marrow out of life. And still, day after day I kept choosing food instead.
I know what it's like to be addicted. Wanting to stop, but not being able to. Needing that next "fix" of sugar is not that different, I imagine, than someone who needs their next fix of drugs, or nicotine, or alcohol, or pornography. And although every other part of my life was awesome, and happy, and everything I wanted it to be, and I knew I was risking it all, I kept choosing sugar. And crap. I tried to ignore it, I tried to tell myself it wasn't a big deal.
But it is a big deal. I know enough to know that it is a big deal. I am not in denial that this is a major problem that needs some pretty hefty intervention. All those other times I lost massive amounts of weight, it was all about the weight--all on the surface. I have never dug in real deep to get to the heart of the issue.
If I was ever going to try and lose weight again, I knew it could not be a surface effort. I had no idea how in the world I would dig deep, because there is no trigger I can identify. I have just always, always been this way.
I spent years vowing that I would never go to an addiction recovery meeting. But this time I was so desperate that I knew I should do it, if I could. Unfortunately, for our stake those meetings are 40 minutes away, on a week night. At this point in my life, that is not even in the realm of possibility. But I do have a manual, and I decided it was time to pull it out and give it a go.
Every night I would go to bed, vowing to do better the next day. I would wake up with new determination to follow some kind of guidelines. And then I'd go downstairs and real life would start, and I didn't have an ounce of discipline to stick to what I promised myself I'd do. I'd get the cereal down for the kids, and totally cave, eating 2 or 3 bowls myself. And after that, I was in no mood for "healthy" food the rest of the day. And then I'd go upstairs at night and wonder why in the world I did that, and make the same promises to myself that I'd made the night before.
Eventually I just stopped caring at all. My clothes would get tight and I'd just get more. I hated what I was doing to myself, so I stopped paying attention. No more mirrors--I did my makeup on a tiny little mirror in a compact. I stopped fixing my hair--I've been tight ponytail girl every day for longer than I care to admit. No pictures, no mirrors, no thinking about it. Because I didn't know what to think! I didn't know what kinds of rules to follow, because I was so terrified of working hard to lose it again if I was not losing it for good.
My main addiction is sugar, although I can't claim that all the other horribly bad food out there isn't part of it. I just love yummy food, and I love a lot of it. My portions are out of control, and sugar reigns supreme. It got to the point that no matter how much I wanted to change it, I couldn't.
I started wondering when I was going to have a heart attack, or when I was just going to drop dead because my body couldn't handle it anymore. And even that wasn't enough to make me stop. I thought about all the things I have to live for, and all the things I want to do with this life, and I thought about Jared and the kids and how much I really just want to be healthy enough to suck the marrow out of life. And still, day after day I kept choosing food instead.
I know what it's like to be addicted. Wanting to stop, but not being able to. Needing that next "fix" of sugar is not that different, I imagine, than someone who needs their next fix of drugs, or nicotine, or alcohol, or pornography. And although every other part of my life was awesome, and happy, and everything I wanted it to be, and I knew I was risking it all, I kept choosing sugar. And crap. I tried to ignore it, I tried to tell myself it wasn't a big deal.
But it is a big deal. I know enough to know that it is a big deal. I am not in denial that this is a major problem that needs some pretty hefty intervention. All those other times I lost massive amounts of weight, it was all about the weight--all on the surface. I have never dug in real deep to get to the heart of the issue.
If I was ever going to try and lose weight again, I knew it could not be a surface effort. I had no idea how in the world I would dig deep, because there is no trigger I can identify. I have just always, always been this way.
I spent years vowing that I would never go to an addiction recovery meeting. But this time I was so desperate that I knew I should do it, if I could. Unfortunately, for our stake those meetings are 40 minutes away, on a week night. At this point in my life, that is not even in the realm of possibility. But I do have a manual, and I decided it was time to pull it out and give it a go.
Lost
We have lived here in Washington for just over 2 years. Prior to moving here, my husband spent a year in Iraq, and I spent that year losing over 100 pounds. I worked hard and was very disciplined, and dazzled people with my progress. I was on top of the world--especially when I got to spend a week in Hawaii with my husband, attaining some pretty fun physical feats.
Then we moved, and I really struggled to keep it up. When we got to our house and we got things all set up, I finally stepped on the scale and was devastated that I had gained about 15 pounds in a very short amount of time. So Jared and I watched Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead, the Joe Cross documentary on juicing, which is available on Netflix. After watching that, Jared was motivated to join me on a 10 day juice fast.
We made it halfway through day 8 and we were both just sick of it. I sent him off to Subway to bring us each home a footlong sandwich and some chips. I mean, we deserved it after juice fasting for a week! We were psychologically ravenous.
For the next month or so I tried to get back to juicing, but never could make it past lunch on the first day before I was quitting to just eat whatever the family was eating. For the life of me, I could not do it again.
I have spent my entire 2 years in Washington kind of lost as to know what to do about my weight. I had identified my problem with extremes, and so I very much hesitated to "diet" the same way I always have. But I didn't know how to do things any other way. I wanted to get motivated, but I was afraid to get OVER motivated. I wanted to exercise, and I did at one point join the gym. But I couldn't leave well enough alone, I always pushed. I tried to exercise without the gung ho motivation, but I needed it to drive me through--to get me out of bed, in the car, to they gym, and on the machine. Without the motivation, I stayed in bed. With the motivation, I pushed too hard. I spent 2 years trying to figure out how to do enough, but not too much. How to follow rules, but not to the point of killing myself over them.
For two years I have struggled to know what to do. I tried Weight Watchers at one point during that time (because it makes the most sense. It offers guidelines without completely cutting anything out). But I couldn't for the life of me stick with it, because--well, I don't know why.
And so for two years, I have basically lived by no rules, as I have gone back and forth in my mind how in the world to face it. Trying to figure out how to do what I need to do without going to extremes. But without those guidelines, doing nothing at all to care one bit about how I have been eating, I gained 150 pounds. Even in 2 years, who does that?
Not your every day, run of the mill person who struggles with weight. This is something monumentally more serious.
Then we moved, and I really struggled to keep it up. When we got to our house and we got things all set up, I finally stepped on the scale and was devastated that I had gained about 15 pounds in a very short amount of time. So Jared and I watched Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead, the Joe Cross documentary on juicing, which is available on Netflix. After watching that, Jared was motivated to join me on a 10 day juice fast.
We made it halfway through day 8 and we were both just sick of it. I sent him off to Subway to bring us each home a footlong sandwich and some chips. I mean, we deserved it after juice fasting for a week! We were psychologically ravenous.
For the next month or so I tried to get back to juicing, but never could make it past lunch on the first day before I was quitting to just eat whatever the family was eating. For the life of me, I could not do it again.
I have spent my entire 2 years in Washington kind of lost as to know what to do about my weight. I had identified my problem with extremes, and so I very much hesitated to "diet" the same way I always have. But I didn't know how to do things any other way. I wanted to get motivated, but I was afraid to get OVER motivated. I wanted to exercise, and I did at one point join the gym. But I couldn't leave well enough alone, I always pushed. I tried to exercise without the gung ho motivation, but I needed it to drive me through--to get me out of bed, in the car, to they gym, and on the machine. Without the motivation, I stayed in bed. With the motivation, I pushed too hard. I spent 2 years trying to figure out how to do enough, but not too much. How to follow rules, but not to the point of killing myself over them.
For two years I have struggled to know what to do. I tried Weight Watchers at one point during that time (because it makes the most sense. It offers guidelines without completely cutting anything out). But I couldn't for the life of me stick with it, because--well, I don't know why.
And so for two years, I have basically lived by no rules, as I have gone back and forth in my mind how in the world to face it. Trying to figure out how to do what I need to do without going to extremes. But without those guidelines, doing nothing at all to care one bit about how I have been eating, I gained 150 pounds. Even in 2 years, who does that?
Not your every day, run of the mill person who struggles with weight. This is something monumentally more serious.
Extreme
When it comes to weight management, I have never been able to be middle of the road. I'm either all the way on, or all the way off.
When I'm losing weight, I'm perfect.
I eat perfectly, no cheating. Not even a morsel. To the point where I have myself convinced that I don't struggle with food at all. I can spend hours in my kitchen, creating amazing meals and treats for people like it's a craft project--a work of art, and yet I won't touch it. Won't even want it. It makes me feel like I have beat it. Being around it, smelling it, experiencing it, and not tasting even one bite. I rock.
I exercise. Hard. At one point in my life I was working out 4 hours every day in the gym. I feel good when I do that, to tell you the truth. I mean, I feel great. I'm the kind of person who will get on the treadmill or the elliptical and just go for it. But if one day I walk 3 minutes and run 1, the next day I have to walk 3 minutes and run a minute and five seconds. Push just a little bit harder. Increase that incline just a little bit more. Burn just 20 more calories than I did yesterday. I can do it, I tell myself. No holding back. I push, and I push, and I push, and I push. I can't ever just let well enough alone. My workout is no good if it's only as good as what I did yesterday.
Eating perfectly and killing myself exercising feels AMAZING. On top of the world. I swear I will do it forever, because it feels so great. But I never do. I always end up tripping myself up and quitting.
And then I go very quickly to the other extreme.
The one where I don't follow any rules or guidelines whatsoever.
Now that I have identified that pattern in my life, I realize that I have to fight it.
When I am ready to really work on my eating habits, I need to try and develop realistic guidelines. Guidelines that keep me eating a nutritious, well balanced diet of proper proportions, allowing a little treat here and there. My problem is that when I cut things completely out, I eventually want them so bad I go crazy on them. But when I do allow myself to have a little, I can never just stop after a little. And so you see the challenge.
When I am ready to start an exercise program again, my challenge is going to be to force myself to stay with the same thing for a month or two before I try to increase anything--and then make a reasonable, livable increase, and stick to that for a while. I have to be disciplined enough not to push myself too hard.
And so I battle the extremes.
When I'm losing weight, I'm perfect.
I eat perfectly, no cheating. Not even a morsel. To the point where I have myself convinced that I don't struggle with food at all. I can spend hours in my kitchen, creating amazing meals and treats for people like it's a craft project--a work of art, and yet I won't touch it. Won't even want it. It makes me feel like I have beat it. Being around it, smelling it, experiencing it, and not tasting even one bite. I rock.
I exercise. Hard. At one point in my life I was working out 4 hours every day in the gym. I feel good when I do that, to tell you the truth. I mean, I feel great. I'm the kind of person who will get on the treadmill or the elliptical and just go for it. But if one day I walk 3 minutes and run 1, the next day I have to walk 3 minutes and run a minute and five seconds. Push just a little bit harder. Increase that incline just a little bit more. Burn just 20 more calories than I did yesterday. I can do it, I tell myself. No holding back. I push, and I push, and I push, and I push. I can't ever just let well enough alone. My workout is no good if it's only as good as what I did yesterday.
Eating perfectly and killing myself exercising feels AMAZING. On top of the world. I swear I will do it forever, because it feels so great. But I never do. I always end up tripping myself up and quitting.
And then I go very quickly to the other extreme.
The one where I don't follow any rules or guidelines whatsoever.
Now that I have identified that pattern in my life, I realize that I have to fight it.
When I am ready to really work on my eating habits, I need to try and develop realistic guidelines. Guidelines that keep me eating a nutritious, well balanced diet of proper proportions, allowing a little treat here and there. My problem is that when I cut things completely out, I eventually want them so bad I go crazy on them. But when I do allow myself to have a little, I can never just stop after a little. And so you see the challenge.
When I am ready to start an exercise program again, my challenge is going to be to force myself to stay with the same thing for a month or two before I try to increase anything--and then make a reasonable, livable increase, and stick to that for a while. I have to be disciplined enough not to push myself too hard.
And so I battle the extremes.
My Goliath
It's no secret to anyone who knows me, that I have struggled all my life with food issues.
I was a fat kid. I was a fat teenager. I've always been a fat adult.
I watch these shows on t.v. about weight loss, and time and again I have seen people identify that traumatic point in their life when they turned to food to cope with whatever it is they're facing. And once they identify it and deal with it--get counseling, overcome, get closure--they are able to move forward without needing that comfort they always got from the food.
That's not me. I do not have a single moment in my life that was the turning point where I started getting fat. I've just always been fat. So I don't have that incident that I can go overcome and walk away happily ever after.
In college I really put effort into fighting it. I would work super hard and exercise and do all that great stuff, but I never really overcame eating issues. It's just been up and down, up and down, my entire life.
Two different times in my life I have lost over 100 pounds, felt on top of the world--in spite of the 50 or so extra pounds I still carried.
And every time I lose weight, I always gain it back, plus some. Every single time.
So enough is enough.
I was a fat kid. I was a fat teenager. I've always been a fat adult.
I watch these shows on t.v. about weight loss, and time and again I have seen people identify that traumatic point in their life when they turned to food to cope with whatever it is they're facing. And once they identify it and deal with it--get counseling, overcome, get closure--they are able to move forward without needing that comfort they always got from the food.
That's not me. I do not have a single moment in my life that was the turning point where I started getting fat. I've just always been fat. So I don't have that incident that I can go overcome and walk away happily ever after.
In college I really put effort into fighting it. I would work super hard and exercise and do all that great stuff, but I never really overcame eating issues. It's just been up and down, up and down, my entire life.
Two different times in my life I have lost over 100 pounds, felt on top of the world--in spite of the 50 or so extra pounds I still carried.
And every time I lose weight, I always gain it back, plus some. Every single time.
So enough is enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)