Health and Happiness Club

I love that old adage, “the first step is always the hardest.” And by love, I mean deplore. I find it kind of insulting, actually, because it negates the difficulty of the journey—the ups and downs that can break your spirit, if you let it.

If you’re like me, it’s not necessarily the first step that’s the hardest, but steps 5, 7, 19, 172, etc. etc. See, for me at least, the first step is pretty easy. That’s when you’re the most motivated—all of those emotions that drive you towards change are at their peak, along with every reason you can think of to change. But once you are in the swing of things, you realize that change isn’t so revolutionary. It takes time.

Our generation/nation is so used to instant gratification that we assume that just because we change our mindsets that everything else will change immediately as well. We don’t want to know what happens between the before and after photos—we just want to see the results. We make resolutions. We are diligent. We are dedicated. We are successful. Then the middle comes. The “middle” is the place you reach when you’ve worked so hard to change your beliefs, practices, and thinking, but your physical life still looks similar to what it did before you started all of this hard work. The middle is actually the biggest part of any journey, and it’s hard to continue your new way of thinking when you feel like there’s no real impact from it.  You get angry. You turn back. You regress. You quit. Sometimes you regress to a far worse place than you were before, sometimes not. But then, hopefully, you turn back. You feel like you start over, like you start anew, which I guess makes that “first step” pretty difficult—mostly because it’s really your third or tenth. You see this endless loop frequently with people trying to lose weight (which I can definitely attest).

I’ll give you my example, my battle with the middle. I started gaining weight at a very young age due to depression. From then on, it became a constant battle for me. I’d gain a lot of weight, then I’d lose a lot of weight (but never as much as I gained in the first place), then I’d gain back more than I’d lost, and be heavier than I was when I thought I was too fat the first time. I tried diet pills (which made me gain weight), bulimia (which made me gain weight), even eating programs such as Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers (which did help me to lose weight, but didn’t stick, and gave me an obsessive knowledge of calorie contents so I could feel “properly” guilty when I ate anything other than celery).  

About a year ago, looking over pictures where at the time I thought I was an obese monster, I realized that I wasn’t an obese monster—I only thought I was. In the pictures, I looked like a normal-sized woman. When people saw me, they didn’t see “fat,” they saw Amy. I was the only person who saw that. I realized that I had to change my thinking in order to free myself from the burden of weight that I had given myself so long ago. I was a very sad, angry girl, who felt unlovable. The world kept on telling me that I was lovable, and so I did the one thing that I thought would make me unlovable—gain weight. Because, if there’s one thing my subconscious learned from Cosmo and Bro movies, the best way to be left alone is to be overweight. I ate my sadness, my hatred of myself. Each extra pound on my body represents an insecurity that I let get out of control, to the point where it ruled my life and my thinking.

So, I went to therapy. Step by step, I took a wrecking ball to my old ways of thinking, cleaned up the debris, and made a new foundation of healthy thinking and living. And, I am now to a point where I can say that I am lovable. And, more importantly, I love myself. I eat pretty ridiculously healthy. Although I still have moments of weaknesses, they aren’t as out of control as they used to be—and I don’t’ hate myself afterwards. I walk everywhere. I’m not to the point where I’m working out all the time, but I’m working on it, and being pretty gentle with myself, too.

I bet you’re wondering why this is the “middle” for me? I mean, it sounds like a great success, non? I totally changed my way of thinking and love my self! It is a great achievement. BUT, it’s still the middle for me. It’s the middle because I’m still unhealthily overweight. I have breathing problems, and there are still physical things about me that aren’t working the way they should due to weight (this isn’t purely an aesthetic thing). The ironic thing is that now that I’m losing weight in a healthy manner and choosing a healthier approach to my views on weight and food, the weight is coming off painfully slow, which increases the temptation to be unhealthy, for just a little bit, because I’m ready for my body to reflect how I feel. In my mind I feel beautiful and lithe and ready for action. But when I physically start going, my body doesn’t match my mindset. I’m putting in good stuff, but the bad stuff lingers. So, I’m continually tempted to turn back. I occasionally do—but I catch myself more easily this time around. It’s a struggle, which I keep on expecting to lessen with each step I take towards an emotionally and physically healthier life. But, it doesn’t get that much easier. I mean, it is easier, just not as easy as I’d like it to be.

So, what’s a girl to do when she gets to this point? In truth, I have no idea. I meditate on it. I journal. I paint. I soldier through. But stuff still pops up. I still have a LONG way to go on my journey to wellness, and I know that these bumps are pretty normal. I’m not writing this blog to give advice or to tell you what to do when you’re feeling this way. I’m writing this blog to let you know that it happens. That there are trials between the before and after photos that we have to take on. Change isn’t an express train. Even revolutions take time.

In fact, something I oddly take comfort in, but the American Revolution took a whole lot longer than we press it. Sure, we celebrate Independence on July 4^th, but did you notice that George Washington— or G Wash, as I affectionately call him—wasn’t sworn in as President until 1789? Yup, it took a whopping 12½ years to get a government in order that reflected the ideals set forth in the Declaration of Independence. During that time, we were almost turned into military nation because our troops were so pissed off that they weren’t getting paid, were still fighting, had no shoes or clothing or food to assist in their fight to keep us from returning to British rule (because I hope you didn’t think that the war ended on July 4—it definitely kept raging). On the night that the troops were set to revolt, G Wash came down to talk to them, to attempt to convince them to not revolt. You can find the speech here. It’s really not that great or inspirational. What was inspirational was when Washington stopped in the middle of his speech because he was having trouble reading it. He then took out his glasses and put them on. Everyone in the cabin gasped, because putting on glasses was a sign of age and weakness, something you don’t expect your Commander-in-Chief to do. G Wash addressed this by saying, “Gentlemen, you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray but almost blind in the service of my country.” The men were so inspired by Washington’s own devotion to his ideals that it reminded them why they were fighting in the first place (and would continue to fight for years to come). And it is because of that reminder that we are the Democratic nation that we are today (however flawed some of you may consider it, I still think it’s pretty great).  

I never really thought of that before—of how Washington’s speech was really a way to get us through “the middle.” Perhaps that’s all we really need when we get to this point? Someone to remind us that we’re not the only ones struggling, sacrificing. That we’re not alone in our pain. It took years to create my toxic ways of thinking, it has taken years to reverse it, and will take many more years to foster my new ways of thinking. I may be in the middle of discovering where a healthier me is meant to be, but I think that this time, the reasons I am doing it are strong enough to get me through the rough patches, and I know that they are definitely reasons to fight for. A year ago, I declared myself independent from my toxic thinking. I’m still in the battle. I can’t wait to see the “me” I create when I win the war.