I used to see a therapist.  I went to see her to work out some things, to talk about and process something specific.  I ended up staying with her just over a year.  By the end, the problem I started with had been resolved (mostly) and I found myself searching for things to talk about each week.  It was not worth the money until I could figure out or was more comfortable talking about what else may have been plaguing me.

One of the issues I struggled with discussing with her was my weight.  It was clear that she had never struggled with weight.  She stated she had never tried fast food, she couldn’t understand why the desire to be healthy didn’t translate to an immediate change in my ways, and she seemed – for lack of a better way to say it – to struggle with my struggle.  It seemed so simple to her.  Just make a change and the weight will come off.  Decide to be healthy and you will be.

That misunderstanding of weight is one of the main reasons I continue to write about it.  It is not just that I struggle with it and think you need to hear me whine about it every so often.  But because I don’t know if there is any medical condition more misunderstood than this one.  It seems so easy for someone who has never struggled and it seems so complicated for those that do struggle with it.

And honestly, fat people don’t make it easy.  We want to believe that it should be painless – quick fixes, fast diets, pills, shakes, meal replacements…we buy into the hype.  We (generally speaking) also allow ourselves to be judged at times, we wear under baggy clothes, we make excuses for our behavior while rarely acknowledging the bad things we do, and most of all – we hide.

I hide.

I hide the fact that nothing scares me more than not being able to lose the weight.  I hide the fact that every year I inch closer and closer to the age my dad was when he died of a heart attack and I am petrified of dying that young.  I hide the fact that I eat more and eat worse than I want to admit.  I hide that the pain I feel is not just physical…the emotional pain is much, much worse.  Mostly I hide the fact that I feel helpless.  I feel like it is too late for me.  I feel like I will never be able to make enough changes to change the course I am on.

A lot of this plays into my “never enough” attitude.  I am not enough.  I can’t do enough.  I can’t be enough.  I don’t deserve better nor am I capable of change to make it better.

I know this is not true.  I know I have people who love me, a God who adores me and I am more than capable.  I am enough.  I know it intellectually.  But getting to a point where I live it has been near impossible.

I have made changes over the years.  They have been slow and small.  I have struggles still.  Daily fights with myself about how what and how much.  I post inspiration, meal plan, keep bad foods out of the house and then…something happens.  And I am back where I started.

So what now?

I have to learn to be content with small changes.  I pray that people don’t give up on me and that I don’t give up on me.   I keep looking for additional ways to make this work.  I need discipline and grace.  I need fortitude and forgiveness.  And mostly I need progress.  Just a little.  Just enough to give me hope.


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