Beloved is losing weight.
More than 30 pounds of weight, in fact. He is looking amazing, feeling great, and rightfully crows about his triumphs. He's halving his food intake and opting for healthier choices. He's singing 45 minutes into zumba classes, walking miles at night, and managing yoga poses I never dreamed I'd see in real life.
I have done nothing but wait. Uninspired, I have been hoping to wake up one morning with the burning itch to go to the gym or even walk with the kids. It hasn't happened, and I have been stuck between 203 and 205 pounds for months. The excuses are the usual...too hot, too much trouble, too many injuries. It amounts to the same thing, though. I'm waiting and the waiting is weighing on me.
Part of me feels trapped. With two growing kids, I am faced with "I'm hungry" all day long, and absentmindedly popping a handful of dry cereal in my mouth because it has been brought to me. With the heat and humidity wilting me and my garden, I am uninterested in spending any time in the sun. Wrestling the kids into childcare so I can do a workout I am not excited about is just one more obstacle.
I know these are excuses. I know what I *need* to do to lose weight. I have the knowledge and the tools.
When Beloved bounds into the kitchen, proclaiming the scale's reading with pride, I almost automatically frown. It's not fair to him...I am proud of him and impressed with him. No, Beloved, I'm not happy about your weight loss...because I hear what you don't...this horrible depressing voice nagging me that I can't do it, that I will fail so why bother starting. I always fail...fail to lose weight, fail to land a job, fail to save my mom, fail, fail, fail.
So goes the cycle of depression.
Ah, darlin...the tape in our head says some mean things. I wish you would say to yourself what you so readily say to others, you are worth it, you can do it, and you are pretty awesome. *hugs*
ReplyDelete~musey