I've recently been challenged to start writing again, so here's to writing more than twice a year!
When we moved to the Upstate from the Lowcountry, it was hard for me emotionally and physically. I was struggling with undiagnosed anxiety that was manifesting itself with physical symptoms like exhaustion, tingling in my hands and feet, and insomnia.
I had managed to lose about 10 pounds before the move, but over the course of that summer and into that depressing fall and dark winter seasons, I began to eat a lot. It's not like I was extra hungry or anything, but it felt like I had no control over my actions, and I would hide and eat fattening foods under the guise of wanting to be alone to rest.
I spent a lot of time alone that season. Depression/ Anxiety wears you out and I was taking naps daily. Eating and napping, I sound like a baby, but the eating was out of control.
I read books, I prayed, I counted calories, I asked for accountability, but nothing seemed to work. Fast forward a year and several sessions into counseling, I was officially diagnosed with a generalized anxiety disorder and put on medication to manage it. That was a turning point in my life. A true sense of freedom that I had not experienced in a very long time.
So, here I am. It's been a year on the medication and I haven't broken the cycle of overeating. Sure, it's gotten more under control. Having a job has helped because I'm not home to eat alone. I did a stint of being faithful at the gym, I dabbled in hiking, but overall I've been rather sedentary.
There are some good, valid reasons (hello, Mono!) and some not so good excuses, but I found myself here recently praying for the millionth time about my seemingly inability to overcome my struggle with weight loss.
And here's the little nugget that God gave to me that is slowly beginning to affect change: I may think that I'm only hurting myself when I sneak food, but I'm hurting my kids too. The truth is, I don't want them growing up with a Mommy who is always on a diet. I don't want them to figure out that my dinner portions are so small because I'm full by the time I sit down for dinner from all the snacking I did while I cooked. I also don't want them to have a Mommy who can't keep up in tag or soccer games. If I don't jump on the trampoline, it had better be due to delivering 3 babies naturally and not because I'm freaking afraid that I will break the darn thing. (Dramatic, I know, but you get the point!)
I'm not taking a stand or making a declaration. I'm not committing to anything, except to honesty. It's time to be honest with myself. My emotional health majorly affects the mood in our home, but the reality of how I view myself and how I treat my body is affecting the people I love too.
This is uncomfortable and embarrassing to write about, but frankly, the fat roll on top of my not-so-skinny jeans doesn't feel good either.
When we moved to the Upstate from the Lowcountry, it was hard for me emotionally and physically. I was struggling with undiagnosed anxiety that was manifesting itself with physical symptoms like exhaustion, tingling in my hands and feet, and insomnia.
I had managed to lose about 10 pounds before the move, but over the course of that summer and into that depressing fall and dark winter seasons, I began to eat a lot. It's not like I was extra hungry or anything, but it felt like I had no control over my actions, and I would hide and eat fattening foods under the guise of wanting to be alone to rest.
I spent a lot of time alone that season. Depression/ Anxiety wears you out and I was taking naps daily. Eating and napping, I sound like a baby, but the eating was out of control.
I read books, I prayed, I counted calories, I asked for accountability, but nothing seemed to work. Fast forward a year and several sessions into counseling, I was officially diagnosed with a generalized anxiety disorder and put on medication to manage it. That was a turning point in my life. A true sense of freedom that I had not experienced in a very long time.
So, here I am. It's been a year on the medication and I haven't broken the cycle of overeating. Sure, it's gotten more under control. Having a job has helped because I'm not home to eat alone. I did a stint of being faithful at the gym, I dabbled in hiking, but overall I've been rather sedentary.
There are some good, valid reasons (hello, Mono!) and some not so good excuses, but I found myself here recently praying for the millionth time about my seemingly inability to overcome my struggle with weight loss.
And here's the little nugget that God gave to me that is slowly beginning to affect change: I may think that I'm only hurting myself when I sneak food, but I'm hurting my kids too. The truth is, I don't want them growing up with a Mommy who is always on a diet. I don't want them to figure out that my dinner portions are so small because I'm full by the time I sit down for dinner from all the snacking I did while I cooked. I also don't want them to have a Mommy who can't keep up in tag or soccer games. If I don't jump on the trampoline, it had better be due to delivering 3 babies naturally and not because I'm freaking afraid that I will break the darn thing. (Dramatic, I know, but you get the point!)
I'm not taking a stand or making a declaration. I'm not committing to anything, except to honesty. It's time to be honest with myself. My emotional health majorly affects the mood in our home, but the reality of how I view myself and how I treat my body is affecting the people I love too.
This is uncomfortable and embarrassing to write about, but frankly, the fat roll on top of my not-so-skinny jeans doesn't feel good either.
Comments
up more calories in burning these foods. Low fat dairy products, soya beans and lentils are rich sources of this type of food.