Losing Myself, Part 3 - The Ugly

The first two blog posts came easy.  But it's been three weeks, so I figured I probably better finish the series.  I would hate to leave you thinking that I'm just this strong-minded Supermom who decided to lose weight and just did it.  That's not the truth.  It's not even close to the truth.  What is true is that God brought me face to face with my ugly, deep-rooted sin that had a hold of my heart.  And then, because He is good, He equipped me with the tools I needed to battle with this sin.  And it's a battle that I am literally fighting right now, as I sit here writing this.

So, to summarize the first two posts:

The Bad - Over 200 pounds. A slave to food. Back surgery.  Facing a life of pain management and degenerated discs.  No self-control and constant discouragement.

The Good - Going to the gym consistently.  Lifting weights.  Slow change over time.  Encouragement of friends and family.  Getting strong.

OK, now to the ugly.  Sigh.  This is going to take a while.

It was a year ago. The day before Thanksgiving.  I had a conversation with a good friend who has been alongside me on this journey for a long time.  She called me and was trying to encourage me about how I could persevere even though my support system (aka bribing myself to do good things group) had fallen apart.  I was facing the start of the holiday season and just decided to do my best.  The same as every holiday season.

What she did was encourage me to set boundaries.  It was something she had learned from "Taste for Truth" a Bible study that she had done.  I was skeptical, but liked the idea.  I didn't think I could stick to a calorie goal on Thanksgiving day, but I told her that I would only eat one plate of food.  Well, surprise surprise, I didn't stick to the boundary I set for myself.  I mean, really.  One serving of Thanksgiving food?  My favorite foods?  They are only available one day a year!  How could I only have one serving?  If I am ever on death row (I don't anticipate this, by the way), and I chose my last meal, it would be Thanksgiving food.  So, of course, like every year, I went to town on the food.  And this pace of eating continued the next day, and the next day, and so on and so forth.  You know the drill...it's the holidays.

A few days after we got home, I got that Bible study in the mail as a gift from my friend.  Of course, I was a few pounds heavier than the day before Thanksgiving and feeling disgusted with myself.  So, I was ready to try it.

Here's the premise:  Boundaries are good.  God wants us to set boundaries and breaking them is sinful.  We don't get a day off from every other battle with sin, so why would we give ourselves permission to break our boundaries.

There's more to it than that, but that's what I was hearing.  And here's my response: "The rest of my life?  As if!  Every day?  I can't do that.  And why would I want to?  I can control myself.  This lady doesn't know what she's talking about.  I don't have a problem.  I just need to try harder."

And over the course of the next few weeks, I gain a half pound here, a half pound there.  I was still working out, but I was in this avalanche of food and couldn't stop.  By Christmas day, I was ready to face the sin that God had made it clear that I was living in.  Most of the time, I start my diets on New Years day so I can have that extra week to eat the Christmas candy and treats that were left over.  But this time, I was done.  I was done with it all.  I was appalled at myself and how much I had gained back.  But more than anything, my sin was laid bare in front of me.

So here's what God showed me about my relationship with food:

I am an entitlement eater, not an emotional eater.

I thought I didn't have a problem with food because I don't eat emotionally.  When I have a rough day, I am more inclined to lay on the couch and binge-watch a tv show than I am to go get ice cream or over-eat.  So, I never really faced the negative view of food that I have.  But God showed me that instead of running to food to comfort myself, I was eating food to get my share/my portion.  Let me explain...

I grew up overseas.  One of the things that I remember so well as a child is looking forward to "American food".  People would come visit us and bring special things we couldn't get...I can't even remember what the list was, except for Dr. Pepper was always on it!  And because they were special, they were in limited supply.  In no way do I fault my family for this, but my attitude was always to get my share.  Since it was rare and special, I wanted to make sure I got what was my portion.  So, when my mom got marshmallow creme and made her amazing fudge...I ate and ate and ate to make sure that I got at least my share.  My metabolism and activity level hid my problem well!

Then as I grew up, my metabolism slowed down and I began to gain some weight.  But I still didn't see the problem.  When we went to Morocco for two years, the same thing happened.  People would visit and bring us special American foods...Dr. Pepper, poptarts, candy, etc.  I would immediately divide them into equal portions.  One friend of Blake's who came to visit started eating out of my stash and I almost LOST. MY. MIND.  "How DARE he eat a Reese's peanut butter cup?  That is mine.  He can get one any time.  I never get them.  The audacity."

Ugly, right?

Well, it turns out this entitlement and getting my share isn't limited to living overseas or to special foods.

Here's an example:  I make 24 chocolate chip cookies.  There are 4 of us in this house.  So that's 6 cookies per person.  My intention is never to eat 6 cookies (or more, because the kids don't need 6) that day.  I plan on eating them slowly over the next few days as I have calories available.  But Blake comes home and eats 4.  So he's at a faster pace than I am so I need to pick up the pace or he's going to eat mine.  So I do, and before you know it, the cookies are gone.

Entitlement eating.  I want my share.  My portion.  It's irrational.  I could go to Walmart, buy the supplies and make more chocolate chip cookies at any point.  But, I want what's mine.  I deserve what is mine.

Ugly and selfish.

So, through several weeks of time in Scripture, the Lord brought a couple ofverses to me that I have memorized and then used to approach my selfish and unhealthy relationship to food.

Romans 13:14
"But put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify it's desires."

Psalm 16:5-6
"The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance."

So, two things:

1. I am constantly to be renewing my mind and setting aside the desires of the flesh.  For me, this means daily committing to this battle.  Every day, and sometimes more often, I go to the Lord and ask for His strength to make good choices.  Does this mean that I am perfect every day?  Not even close.  I've probably failed more days than I have succeeded.  But every day, I recommit.  Sometimes every hour.  I think about what I will be doing that day and plan my eating ahead of time.  I readjust when there are surprises.  There are no "I'll start again tomorrow" allowances or "I'll start again Monday" days.  It's an awareness of the potential that I could be taken over again by my flesh and start pursuing food instead of Jesus.  The potential is always there.  But so is Jesus.

2. I have to recognize that the portion God has given me is good.  I know how many calories it takes to feed my body to be able to do what I need to do.  That is enough to nourish my body and to enjoy food.  If that day includes a cookie or two and I am still within my limits, that is good.  If I don't get to exercise and am more limited, saying no to extra treats is good too.  God has given me some very clear boundaries and they are for my good.  He is not with-holding good things from me.  I struggle with the same thing in finances.  My portion is secure.  The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.

So, what are my boundaries?

1. Stick to my calorie allotment every day for the rest of my life.  I have five exceptions...my birthday, anniversary, Mother's Day, Thanksgiving day, and Christmas.  I also have made the exception that fruits and veggies don't get counted.  So at the end of the day, if I have not done well, I don't have to starve.  I figure if I get fat on bananas and snow peas, then more power to me.

2. No second helpings except for vegetables and fruits.

3. No drinking pop (soda for you non-Okies) that I pay for.  This has helped me immensely financially too!

Are they easy?  No.  Are they for my good? Yes.  Will it ever be easy to stick to them?  Probably not.  Is God good and forgiving when I fail?  Always.  Does He give me everything I need to overcome?  Absolutely.

So, there you have it.  I hope that when you notice that I've lost weight, you see God's work in my life.  He could have left me where I was.

He didn't and I owe Him everything.

Losing Myself Part 2 - The Good

This post is a little uncomfortable to write because I hate sounding like I am patting myself on the back for my accomplishments.  The truth is my health is a gift from God and if this experience has taught me anything, it is to be grateful for what I have...even on the days I experience pain.

Speaking of pain, before I had back surgery, I lived on narcotics.  It was the only way to survive.  I am grateful for a successful surgery and recovery and for the progress I have made with my weight loss/strength gain because now, I can knock out the nerve pain with an ibuprofen.  And I really only need to do that about once a week or so.  I've learned it's all about stretching and staying loose through consistent exercise.

But I'll back up....Get it?  "BACK up"?  Never mind. Jordan would be rolling his eyes at me right now.

I was post-surgery and after a brief couple of great weeks, I started experiencing continued pain.  I was scared and frustrated that my entire life could consist of this level of pain.  I also began to fear the degenerated discs I have and the possibility of future surgeries, even more invasive than what I had gone through.

I went to Physical Therapy where I learned how to stretch well.  I learned what muscles lay on top of the damaged nerve and how to take care of them.  I learned safe ways to do things like pick up things off the ground without bending.  I finally started to feel better and a tad more confident about my future.

I also learned how weak I was...Everything that supports my spine (from my rear to my abs) was pathetic and possibly non-existent.  So, I decided to go back to the gym.

Thankfully, my gym had recently opened a Kids Club, so I dragged two year old Jordan and little baby Marcus and left them with the sweet workers and hoped for the best.  We had some rough days, but now, my kids walk in there like they own the place.  They pretty much do...we are there four days a week!

I went straight to my safe place...the elliptical in the dark Cardio Cinema room.  I focused on the formula...counting my calorie intake and burning what I needed to.  But I knew I had to add strength training at some point...I just wanted to get skinnier and stronger before I tried it!

Well, somehow I ended up trying the Body Pump class and God blessed me with an instructor who had the exact same surgery I did 16 years before me!  She was able to walk me through the lifts and help me modify to meet my needs.  I started with the teeny tiny weights and have gone to this class for 2 1/2 years and am much stronger.  In fact, I'm the strongest I've ever been in my life...and this includes the teenage sports-playing years.  In those days of yore, I only did pushups if my coach yelled at me to.  I kind of wish I could go back and show 17 year old me how to do a real pushup, but I guess it's not possible. :)

So, for me, strength training is the key.  Low weight, a million reps over years has resulted in much more muscle tone than if I had pushed myself hard and injured myself.  I've even been able to build enough that I can do SOME higher impact things like box jumps...mostly because I can control the landing.

I still have many limitations...I always joke that the teachers should pay me to be the "Modify Girl" if they ever make a video.  I can't (and won't) do dead lifts except with an empty bar.  No jumping jacks or double-leg jump roping.  My abs are still needing a lot of work, especially the ones responsible for twisting because when I try to twist intentionally, they fight back.  They have been trained so well to never twist, that they resist.

But, the biggest blessing of the whole "getting stronger" experience other than the getting stronger and being a much more fun and health mom part...is my gym family.  God has blessed me with many teachers, trainers, and fellow exercisers who push me, but understand my limitations and don't make me feel like I have to keep up.  They even caution me at times to rethink something...which competitive me doesn't always enjoy.  ("Hey Carol, you know if you squat with no weight, you can actually do the whole movement which will work the muscles you want to work instead of not really doing anything beneficial at all...")  But they have blessed me beyond measure by their support!

OK, so there's the secret to my weight loss...strength training and burning more calories than I took in.  You might be saying "Duh! That's not a secret".  You're right.  It's not.  Actually, I've left one thing out...the real key to everything.

Remember in Part 1?  That whole issue of slavery to food?  Well, going to the gym didn't fix that problem.  The problem of sin having a hold on my life.  The problem of self-control.  The really fierce, ugly battle I had to fight with sin.  I'll share more about that in Part 3.  That's not only the key to my weight loss, but my victory I've had over that master in my life.  It's a battle I continue to fight every day and will fight every day for the rest of my life.

By the way, I'm a nicer and more fun Mom now!  I am not in pain all of the time, so I'm less cranky.  And when the boys want to do something active...I can say "Yes!  I'll chase you all over the OU campus!" when they want to ride their bikes.

"Every good gift is from above..."

If you missed part one...

https://livinglindley.blogspot.com/2017/10/losing-myself-part-1-bad.html

Losing Myself Part 1 - The Bad

I have lost 30 pounds in 3 years.  It does not sound like a huge number, especially in a Biggest Loser world where we see people drop a hundred pounds in a few months on a reality show where they are completely isolated from their family, their temptations, their reality...but that's another story, right?  I have had many people ask me how I did it.  So, I thought I would share my journey to this point...but it's a road I will walk for the rest of my life.  It's not a quick fix.  It's been about much more than diet and exercise. 

So, in this first post, I'll go back to where I was 3 years ago...weighing over 200 pounds and in horrific, debilitating pain from a ruptured disc.  Waiting for surgery to "fix" it so I could "fix" myself.  But that wasn't really the beginning.

My food issues have existed a lot longer than my weight issues have existed.  My weight issues began to happen towards the end of college and only increased in severity as I got older. My food issues boil down to this: I. Love. Food.  I do...I love it.  I love to eat good food.  I love to eat dessert.  I love fudge at Christmas time.  I love chocolate chip cookies.  I love to go to a Mexican restaurant and devour chips and queso.  And then devour a chimichanga.  And then a sopapilla.  I love Chinese buffets and the plethora of deliciousness there.  I love Italian restaurants and eating more than my share of bread dipped in olive oil.  And then finishing off pasta with some sort of cheesy white sauce.  I love food.

It probably sounds crazy to confess this, because who doesn't love delicious food?  But seriously, I LOVE food.  More than I should.  I remember one time, I told Blake "I think I'm a slave to food."  He agreed, which of course immediately hurt my feelings.  I knew I was in a bad place by the time I turned 30 and was mom of two little bitty boys.  But I didn't know what to do about it.

So I just tried harder.  I've been on so many diets.  In college, I did the South Beach Diet.  I lost six pounds in two weeks.  It was amazing.  And then I gained it back plus more because I was so hungry.  I tried Weight Watchers.  Nope.  I tried the "Don't Eat Until You Are Really Hungry" diet.  Fail.  I tried counting calories.  Cue obnoxious buzzer sound.  I couldn't overcome my gluttony.  So, I would quit until I moved up a size of pants again.  And I'd try something else.

What about exercise?  Yes.  I did some.  I played 3 sports in high school which hid my food problem.  I worked out some in college, but not enough to fully hide that Freshman Fifteen.  I still played soccer on a rec team, so I burned some calories.  But the weight kept adding up in small amounts.  I started running and training for a 5K.  I'm competitive so I got into it for a while.

In my late 20's, I had a group of other moms who did a points challenge.  I finally found something that motivated me and got me to the gym and to control what I ate.  I earned points and hopefully money at the end of each challenge so I did what I needed to do and lost a noticeable amount of weight.  It was accountability but I depended completely on other people and what they did to be successful.  When they dropped out of the challenge, I stopped.

And then I got pregnant.  I was super excited and didn't gain a ton because I was sick.  I stopped exercising because I was sick and had a two year old.  I had a baby and thought "Alright, now I'm going to lose this and be the fit and trim mom I've always wanted to be."

Cue the back pain.  And the MRI.  The PT.  The meetings with the neurosurgeon.  The surgery.  The recovery.  And the limitations.  No running.  No treadmills on inclines.  No bending at the waist.  No twisting.  No jumping.  No high impact workout.  Did I mentioned degenerated discs to worry about?  And I still loved food.

Thankfully, God did not leave me in a hopeless place.  He took me on a journey of learning to be strong and disciplined and a journey of dying to myself.  I'll save that for part 2.