**WARNING - Mom, Dad, Jeff - DO NOT READ THIS. I AM SERIOUS**
This isn't so much a weight-loss story (because I haven't lost in a while) so much as something this weight-loss journey has caused me to examine.
At the meeting I went to last night we were asked who we were doing this for. We all know the answer is suppose to be "me!" We were told that we must love ourselves enough to do this. We should be able to look in the mirror and say, "I love you."
The leader of our group asked a few people what they liked about themselves and I prayed - PRAYED - she did not call on me. Deep down I always liked things about myself. I may not admit them because as a teenager especially, we are not allowed to show love for ourselves. Stuck-up, full of herself, etc. were all used to keep us in check with the loving. But deep down I did. I was smart and strong and even *gasp!* pretty.
I was also stuck-up, full of myself and looked down at those small town kids who thought I was something less.
I'm not sure when all that changed. I think it may have started in college. Those were the best years of my life up until that point but they were also all about putting me in my place.
No longer one of the smartest, most creative, worldly kids in the class - I was suddenly struggling to keep up. My laziness caught up with me. I learned that people were much more adventuresome and energized than I'd ever been. And that is when I remember my bouts of depression first occurring. Of course, I didn't realize that's what it was at the time. The self-loathing that made me want to sleep or watch TV but certainly not get up and move or be social.
They never lasted all that long and the inbetween spaces were happy and fun. I was up, I was down I was hardly ever in the middle. I got an A on a project, I'll never be able to pull the new assignment off, a party, a deadline - on and on.
I moved. I moved forward. I kept going because I was STRONG. And DETERMINED. And success is only achieved by perseverance. Eventually someone would give me a break and I would prove my brilliance. Then I would think about it and realize I'd never be able to pull the job off. And panic. Then I'd relax because I didn't get the job anyway.
Then I got pregnant and married and was a mom. A good mom. I found solutions to problems and helped keep the family afloat. I had another baby and things were still going fairly well. Then another baby and things were great. Really! Or maybe I was just sleep deprived. But I was Suzy homemaker and we did crafts and projects and life was good.
Then baby #4 came along. And I had to leave my job because I. COULD. NOT. DO. IT. ALL. And we moved - or tried to - and I had a breakdown from all the stress. But then we did move and I remember nothing for a couple of years. Really. Nothing at all.
And then I was depressed. I gained more weight. I went on medication. I went into therapy. I was getting my life back. And then? I was back.
Except I wasn't. I'm not. I lost those pieces of myself somewhere along the way. The strength is gone. The smarts? Not so smart. I meet smart people all the time and I've realized - I'm not one of them. Pretty? For real? No. Not anymore. Talent? Let's just say generic.
What I know I am is lazy, a raving lunatic with my kids, a nag, annoying, broke and fat.
Am I worth the time, money and effort of losing the weight? I really don't know. My kids are worth it. My husband is worth it. But me? Not so sure. No, that's a lie. I'm sure I'm not.
What does it say about you when you honestly can't think of one thing you like about yourself other than I am here for my kids. Because a bad mother is better than no mother.
Please, tell me one thing you like about yourself. I really need to know.
And a note to my mother, father and husband... If you read this? Shame on you. And? We shall not speak of this. Seriously. Or I will change my blog address.