I am halfway through my 365 days. No pounds lost, of that I am sure. Maybe a few gained. It is winter. Snow on the ground, cold, the sun low on the horizon in my northwest climate. I feel at a loss of what to do.
I go to the gym, struggle to make it 15 minutes on the bike and 5 on the elliptical. I go through my stretches, weights and balance exercises. Then I go to work. It feels pointless. I am not inspired. I am not motivated. I am not anything.
What’s going on?
First, I feel completely overwhelmed with parenting, work, home and school. What happened to my joy? What happened to all that gives life to me? I feel its lost under the snow and cold and dark. I don’t think I am depressed, though I sound that way. More so – I am soul-weary.
I pause and think about that. Do I want to be soul-weary? Do I want to be fat? Do I want a year to go by with me just getting older, slower, creakier, less-abled? Do I want to struggle to fasten the seat belt on an airplane, or fit into a small space, or continue to buy clothes in the plus section?
My friend asked me what truth I believe about myself. The truth I tell myself is that no one will love me if I am fat and old and out of shape. What if that was a lie? What if I stopped believing that?
Would I live my life differently?
I would. I would go to the gym because I like getting stronger. I would buy pretty clothes because I look good in them. I would stop eating sugar and white flour because they make me feel bad. I would eat veggies and salads and fruits and meat because they make me feel good. I would laugh more, be outside more, walk and not give a shit how I looked. And I would look good because my light would shine out! I would buy a big ol’ swimsuit and go to the pool because I love to swim.
I wouldn’t give up on myself and look at the ground. I would look straight at myself in the mirror and smile and say, “You are worth loving.”
A year half spent. A half year to go.
Onward. Into the promised land. Into life. Into joy. Into hope. Into not forgetting who I am.