So, how did you do it?

"So, how did you do it?"

How many times have I been asked that?  How many times have you been asked that?  Everyone wants to know how I dropped 40 (60 unofficially) pounds.  They want to know my secret.  They want to know the easy answer.  They want to find the magic formula.

I know this because I wanted to know all those things too.

But the answers are far from easy and no one has the time or inclination to hear the truth.

I didn't do this by watching my calories.  I didn't do this because the "rapid weightloss" program works so well.  I didn't do this by jogging a minuscule amount three times a week.  There was no magic

I have gotten to this point in my journey because I was willing to find the real reasons for my bad health.  I was willing to look in the very dark rooms inside.  I was willing to explore the reasons why I equated food with emotions.  I was willing to stand up to myself and call myself a liar.  I was willing to  expect demand honesty from myself.  I was willing to be scared.  I was willing to feel the pain.

And I was willing to stand before myself and understand, to forgive and to accept.

-----O-----

About a 2 years ago, before I gained all my weight back, an acquaintance had asked me that tired question.  He's got about half a foot and probably 50 pounds on me.  He smokes.  He doesn't exercise.  He wanted to know how I did it.  I told him the about the program and the Couch to 5K training I followed.  He said I inspired him. He got excited and vowed that he was going to start because he "had to do something."

I looked him in the eyes and said, "No. You won't."

The look of pain and disappointment and fear in his eyes that day disturbed me, and does so to this day.

He said that he was going to prove me wrong.  I said I hope he does.  I said you need to be ready to fix what's inside.  And I said that I was sorry, but I didn't think he was ready.

He wasn't.  He still smokes.  He still is large.  He didn't prove me wrong.  I knew he wasn't ready to do the real work.  He wanted the quick fix.  Like we all do.

But that day I just could not be dishonest with him.

Did I do wrong? Did I set him up for failure by telling him, essentially, that I didn't believe in him? 

But, here's the thing.

I am no better than him.

I crashed and burned inside.  After that encounter, I went on to gain back 50 pounds and slap another 20 on top of it.   I stopped being willing to do all that work I praised myself for doing just a few minutes ago in the paragraphs above.

I looked myself in the eyes and said "No. You won't" and I accepted that.

-----O-----

I am convinced that food didn't make me fat.  It was my 40 years of self loathing and a unwillingness to explore the depths of my being that did.  It was a lifetime of avoiding the pain inherent in life.  It was the fact that I was trying to feed what was going on inside with stuff from the outside.  It was because I was scared.

Nothing worked until I tended to that garden inside.

I don't know if this is the answer is right for you.  I don't want to inspire you.  You MUST find inspiration within yourself.  Nothing else works.

But that is how I did it.  And that's how I do it.  And it's how I'll keep doing it.

And that's what I'll tell the next person who asks.

Giving Up Hope (in order to gain even more)

I've come across a quote quite a lot over the last year.  It varies in its composition and who it's attributed to, but the essence is always the same:

Forgiveness means giving up all hope for a different past.

I like it.

It's simple to imagine but so difficult to live by.  But really, I don't think it goes far enough. There is a lot that means giving up all hope for a different past.

Living in the present means giving up all hope for a different past.

Moving forward means giving up all hope for a different past.

Accepting the past means giving up all hope for a different past.

Loving myself means giving up all hope for a different past.

Letting go means finally giving up all hope for a different past.

It is so difficult to let go of ancient hurts and aging anger.  Somehow if one does, one gets the feeling that one is letting the other off the hook.  Even if the one and the other are the same person.   Especially if the one and the other are the same person.

I'm finding it easier, though, as I continue this journey, to find ways to practice this.  While my last post may not be the best example, the truth is that once I wrote it out, I let it go.  Christmas 2011 is in the past and I cannot possibly hope that I will do anything different.I know the past/present/future tenses can get rather convoluted. But as I sit here contemplating not just last weekend but the whole of 2011, I can't think of anything so infused with such simple truth. 

I don't think much of New Years Resolutions, so here is my resolve to accept my past:

With all my faults, 
with all my health problems, with my weight and fat, 

with my weakness, with my failures, 
with all that works to hold me back...
to finally accept all of this as part of myself
and to forgive
and to let go
and to live in the now
and to move forward
and to love myself

means giving up all hope for a different past.

In this way, I do indeed give up.

And giving up hope for the past allows me to hope for the present

and the future.

Happy New Year everyone. 

Let's all let go of the old year, m'kay?

Choosing Reflections

I stand before the mirror and I
See my large belly. I
See my flabby neck. I
See the sadness in my eyes. I
See the fat hanging from my
Frame, from my
Thighs.

I see my
Legs unable to run under
The weight and strain.  I see
My back full of aches, unable
To bend without pain. I see
My arms, with hanging skin underneath. I see my shoulders, slumped and broken
By life's burdens.

I see my face full of
Weakness.
Failure.
Shame.

I see all that I hate
About myself.

I stand before the mirror and I

See legs that hold me

Up like steel pillars. I 

See a back, strong

And proud.  I see

Arms with the strength

To work, the gentleness

To hug my daughters and to

Hold my wife when she is sad.

Or scared.

I see my shoulders, steady

And broad, ready to carry

The weight of life's burdens

for me. And for my family.

And I see my belly

As it wobbles and jiggles

And wiggles and bobbles

When I laugh after wrestling my

Son to the floor, both of us doubled

Over in our glee.

I see my face, proud and secure

In knowing my true worth.

And I look into my eyes, and I

See kindness. I 

See forgiveness. I

See intelligence.

I see Myself.

A Dip in the Sidewalk

So, I was going to write this post about how well things are going. How much things have changed since my life settled down and the new medication actually worked.  How I spent some time going through the blogs of others and found such inspiration.  I was going to write about change and, at the same time, change the layout of The Jogging Clydesdale as a some sort of symbolic representation of this "change".

I was going to, but then I wrote this one.

Today has been tough.  The girls had friends over last night and most of today. There was pizza. There was chips. And dip.  Did I mention the dip? And there was chips.  And doughnuts. And Bismarcks with cream filling. And I ate myself sick.  I am literally nauseous right now, tasting the burps of bbq potato chips. And dip.

Please tell me I'm not the only one to sweep a finger along the bottom and sides of a mostly empty chip dip container to get the last teaspoon of that sour cream goodness.  Please?

So, today wasn't a good day.

But this much has changed.

I am depressed this evening about my choices. But I'm not ashamed.  I know that I am human and can take only so much temptation. And dip.

I'm walking again, 2-3 times a week. And I'm trying to use the stationary bike the nights I don't walk.  And I did visit so many of the blogs I used to read for inspiration but had gotten out of the habit once my depression had really set in.  I am inspired by so many people who have walked down this road before.

I can feel a change just around the corner.

Today I've merely stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk.

And landed in the dip.

Returning

I have been back to the Room with no View.

The 40 watt light bulb has been replaced with a 75.  The floor is swept. The cobwebs cleared. The cinder block walls scrubbed clean.

The boxes organized and stacked neatly on gray steel shelves.

And the door has been repainted a curious green, but the doorknob turns easy; the rusted lock brushed, polished and oiled, but left undone.

The whispers are silenced.

The chill dampness replaced with a humid warmth, like the atmosphere itself is an embrace.

My room has been a metaphor for fear for so long, so much older than that January post...I can hardly begin to describe the change I find when I return there.  I am stronger than I have been in two years. And my life, both metaphorically and literally, mentally and physically, is reorganizing. Sorting. Falling into places I would not have guessed it would fit.

Yeah, the meds are working.

I realize reading back on that post, I was wrong.  I thought I was describing the hold food had on me.  I know now that that room was pure fear, pure depression, pure exhaustion.  And now, somehow, I have let it all go.  Or most of it at least. 

My wife and I are facing what may be the most challenging chapter in our lives together.  And still, calmness.  What will be, will be. And nothing can change that. But right now I have the present. That is all any of us really own. This moment. That's it. And the past either owns us, or we release it, if we are both strong and lucky, keeping only the memories


Will my room stay so neat and calm? I doubt it. My life cycles in and out, from order to chaos and back.

Isn't it wonderful?

Remembering the Forgotten

I had the most extraordinary experience last evening.  For a brief moment, I remembered what it was like when I had lost all that weight, and was active with running and biking and generally not feeling like crap.  And here's the thing. I didn't experience the anxiety or the self judgment of getting back to that point like I usually do when I think of those years.  No, I experienced a calmness.  I experienced the feelings I had when I was at that point; the pride, the happiness, the physical freedom, the mental freedom. 

I remembered what it was like.  And when I came back to the present, that calmness stayed with me for a moment.  I felt the release of the present stress while remembering the release of the past stress.  I was at peace with myself and within myself.  For a moment.  And then it was gone.

I know that those years were no utopia so my memory is rather rose colored.  But they were happier years.  I want to get back to that calmness and that inner peacefulness.  I think I may have forgiven myself for gaining back the weight in that moment because, as I said, I felt no anxiety or shame for having put it all back on.  I just have to remember I did so.

Sometimes I think and I say out loud that food has a hold on me.  It does not.  I hold on to food as my sanctuary and as my comforter.  Those years I was losing the weight and running, I had let go of food.  I had embraced parts of my life I never thought were in me (me? run? be athletic?  but I'm a band geek!).  I had forgotten that I did that.  I have forgotten how to do that.

What I think I'll do is try to go back to that memory whenever the urge to binge starts it's tickle.

Changing subjects, I last wrote about my struggle with depression.  I have an appointment on Tuesday to begin the process with a new doctor.  Here's hoping.

Discoveries

It started with a memory.

I had been thinking about food and my odd relationship with it and I remembered a friend’s 30th birthday party. They had shish kabob gyro meat done up on the grill and all sorts of things to make Greek goodness.

And soon, as people were done eating, I got nervous.

You see, there was still meat on the buffet table. Delicious gryo meat! I couldn’t stand it. There was meat and no one was going to eat it. Presumably my friend would have put it in a container and kept it as leftovers, but she wasn’t doing it. She left it out there! And no one was eating it! The compulsion to eat it was overwhelming. I tried to be sneaky about it. I tried to hide the fact I was snacking long after everyone else had stopped eating. To this day I don’t know if anyone noticed, but the memory of that shame has not left me after 9 years. I ate about a 1/3 pound of meat that I wasn’t hungry for….simply because no one else was going to and I couldn’t stand it being there. Perhaps a third pound isn’t excessive, but the thoughts accompanying were.

Does this make a lick of goddam sense?

That memory lead to other thoughts. Roast beef, gravy and mashed potatoes. OMG. Whenever we have this, I pig out. And the thought in my head is “who knows when you’re gonna have this again? Better get it while you can.” Pig out city. Same thing with what my family calls goulash (most people would call it chili mac without the chili seasoning). I go ape shit for this stuff and eat bowl after bowl with the same thoughts “Better get it while you can.” Same with tuna & noodles. Same with chop suey. Same with popcorn. Same with macaroni and cheese (homemade with Velveeta, not that boxed stuff).

It’s insanity is what it is.

It is a compulsion from my unconscious mind. These foods are my comfort foods. They are the foods we had growing up. We had at least one of those dishes every week (well, not the roast beef, but since we raised steers it was often enough). I’m sure there some emotional attachment there that I’m going to have to explore someday. And all this brought to mind many other things. Mom couldn’t leave a gas station without a candy bar, and one for each of us boys. There was always an after school snack (sometimes healthy, sometimes not). There was nearly always a bedtime snack. Then there were the things that were scarce: Pop was only on hand if we were sick or having pizza. We didn’t have pizza very often. Chips were only served if we were having burgers and dogs. There is still a part of my mind that considers these things treats and rarely enjoyed despite the fact that I have them all the friggen’ time now.

“Better get it while you can.”

It has never been so clear to me that any health gain for me will not happen until I address this emotional attachment to food. Habits, fears of scarcities, attachments to childhood memories. These things I hadn’t figured on. Here I thought emotional eating meant only to eat as a way to deal with stress and hurt. It goes much deeper than that.

I am grateful for these discoveries.

A friend on Facebook posted a quote from Regina Brett in God Never Blinks:

"Forgiveness is giving up all hope of a better past. At first that sounds harsh, but once you let go of what you wanted the past to be, you can start changing the present and create a better future.”

I don’t know what her book is about or what context this quote comes out of, but boy oh boy it is powerful. Forgiveness is giving up all hope of a better past. Forgiveness of myself is giving up all hope that I won’t eat that gyro meat 9 years ago. It means giving up all hope that I’ll be able to restrain my compulsions of the past. It means giving up all hope that my mother will be a better example to the child within me when it comes to diet. It means to come to the final, inescapable conclusion that the past is set in stone. The hurts inflicted by myself and by others will not be erased and no hope in the world can change what has happened.

The present, however, can be changed. And that is more power than I've ever had before.

I have a lot of work to do.

Conversations in my head

Who are you?

I am the Jogging Clydesdale?

No, who are you?

I am Kevin.

No, who are you?

I am...me?

You just don't quite get it.

I don't understand.

WHO ARE YOU?

I am my wife's husband.

I am my children's father.

I am a son.

I am a brother.

I am a cousin.

I am...

Who are you?

I am you.  You are me.

What do you want?

I want health.

What do you want?

I want to not be fat.

What do you want?

I want to run. 

I want to scream.

I want to cry. I want to do.  I want to be.

I want to hide.  I want to be seen. 

I want to learn.  I want....

Yes?

I want to love.  I want to be loved.

By who?

By my family.  By my friends.

And?

I want to love myself.

Why?

Because hating myself hurts too much. 

There is no one crueler to me than me. 

I am at the mercy of my own self.

And I can be an angry, angry man.

Why?

Because I am scared.

Of what?

I don't know.

Me?

Yes.

Why?

You are the voice in my head that tells me I am no good.  

You are the thoughts that tell me I am ugly.  

You are the one who convinces me I am failing. 

You are my shame. 

You are my anger. 

You are my cruelty.

What are you going to do about it?

Forgive you.

What?

I forgive you. 

I don't know why you are so angry. You scare the crap out of me

every time I look in the mirror or close my eyes.  

But you cannot control me.

I forgive you.  I accept that you are a part of me.  

And by loving you first, maybe I will learn to finally

be me.

More letters from a madman

Dear Fat Me,

Yeah, it’s taken some time.  I’ve had to do a lot of thinking. A lot of searching.  And a lot of learning.  I know I have so much more to learn but I know you are my friend and will walk the journey with me.

Yes, I love you.

Yours,

Thin Me

Dear Thin Me,

We don’t have to hug or anything, do we?  That would be awkward.

Sincerely,

Fat Me

Dear Fat Me,
 

:^)

-TM

What I want. Who I am.

This photo was taken after dropping 60 pounds in my "rapid weight loss" program at the hospital.  I went on to drop another 15 pounds before life intervened.

Last Saturday, I did something that rocked my world.  I replaced the batteries in our scales.  I learned that I had gained 15 pounds over my starting point for the "rapid weight loss" program.

I had to use all of my newly acquired skills to stop from falling into a shame cycle.  I had to live in that moment and accept that I am at this point in my life a large man again.  The past is gone, the future is yet to be.  All I have, all we have, is the right here, right now.

I focused on the memory of this photo.  And I thought the words "this is what I want, this is who I am."  Positive phrases.  Not "this is who I hope to be" or "who I will be".  And this mantra got me through the urges to shame and blame.

It's going on my desktop and a print out is going on my bathroom mirror.

What self affirming words can you give to yourself to make it through the inevitable low blows that will come?

Onions

It's been a bit since I last posted.  To tell the truth, for every two steps forward in getting a handle on my emotional health and it's integrated, interwoven effects on my physical health...it's usually a step backward.  It's like an onion.  Just when I feel I've let somethings go, truly feel that I am over some situation or worked through some negative self image, I find it again at a deeper level....a more basic level.

I have a lot of anger.

Without going into all the details, 2010 started out by a betrayal of a friend.  That friend was also my pastor but I am careful to point out his breach of confidence was rooted in our shared friendship and not his confidential duties as a man of the cloth.  It was final straw and the tipping point in my relationship with him.  I ended up resigning my position as a lay leader in my congregation and pretty much withdrawing from church altogether.  The rest of the church leadership got involved with the pastor in issues that went much deeper than my personal pain, and it ended with him tendering his resignation in June effective at the end of August.

There is no doubt in my mind, though, that he blames me for the majority of his failed ministry with my congregation.  I have the e-mail.

I've consciously let go of my hurt and anger.  It doesn't serve me.  I know that I did not, as he put it, "damage his ability to participate in the relational structure of the congregation..."  I have worked hard to let it go and not let the situation and the memories of the situation control my day to day emotional life.  And I've been rather successful.

But then I peel a layer of the onion.

Things have changed in the way I relate to church, to members of my congregation and to how I experience God.  I went to church today and we installed a new, interim pastor, and I've been moody all afternoon.  Everything has changed.  It isn't over simply because he left.  There is aftermath that continues to affect my life and the lives of others. The situation of the former friend and pastor can be directly linked to my wife's emotional and mental health issues.  The stress of the last year has been central in my weight gain.  I have a lot of anger that I am left with this situation to deal with.

I'm not giving up.  I'll keep peeling back that onion.  Pastor Whosit surely isn't the only thing I'll find I'm sure.  Keeping a positive attitude and squelching the negative self talk is a significant step forward for me given my past and personality.  But denying what's buried deep down will not keep me moving forward.

I've got more work to do.

You know, this isn't a typical Jogging Clydesdale post.  But it was important to write so I think I'll post it anyway.

In brief

Struggling a bit today.  Feeling overwhelmed by the fact I am back to my heaviest (on record) and have needed to buy a new wardrobe.  It's been true for several weeks, but it is just hitting hard today.  Hard to not feel a failure. Hard to love myself in spite of my imperfections.  Hard to convince myself I am worthy.

These mind games are really putting a twist on me.

Therefore:

I acknowledge that these feelings exist and I declare that they have served their purpose:  they have informed me that something is wrong; there is an imbalance in my life.  I accept this, and I forgive myself for wallowing.  I am so worth it and I will never be perfect.  And I do love myself.

Even so, I am not too proud to say I could a couple of attaboys.

Receiving Forgiveness

Depression is nourished by a lifetime of ungrieved and unforgiven hurts.
Penelope Sweet

 

Forgive. Forgiveness. To give. To receive.

Which is harder? What is the power of forgiveness?

I want to explore receiving forgiveness, even asking for forgiveness. I know there are others in my life that I have hurt and I should go to them to apologize and ask their forgiveness. Opening myself up to that vulnerability is terrifying. So, for most of my life, I naively wait for those who I hurt to come to me first and forgive me unbidden.

The only one suffering is me. I spent so much emotional capital remembering who all I hurt, who I need to avoid, who I had to steel myself against should they bring up whatever it is that I did and prepare my self for the defense I rarely had to enact.

Let me tell you a story.

My senior year in college, I lived in the basement apartment of a college friend. His family was of more than modest means and he was able to purchase a house right out of college. He let me live there for free. I did not like his girlfriend. But I didn't hate her. Just your basic dislike. I didn't like her personality, her laugh, her being around, her...experience in... intimate matters. I didn't think she was a good match for my friend.

One day my brother stopped by. I thought my friend had left. So as I was giving my brother a tour, I lambasted the girlfriend and didn't hold back in what I thought of her.  I was crueler with my words than I usually am.  I slipped into a kind of locker room language.  I was not nice. I thought I was being clever.

Well, of course, my friend was home. He came out of his bedroom, left with his girlfriend, had a nice dinner, came home and kicked my ass out. It was, for all intents and purposes, the end of a friendship. I had blown it. I apologized sincerely. What I said was a true representation of what I thought of the girlfriend, but how I said it and who I said it to was bad judgment I think he accepted my apology, but I don't know if he forgave me.

They got married. They have a beautiful family. My town is a small city. Plus all characters in this anecdote are all Mennonites. So we run into each other every now and again. And every time we did, I felt deep, abiding shame. Life lessons as an adult were teaching me that the things that had so bothered me about their living arrangements back then are a pittance to the real problems and decisions I needed to make and live through now.

I was ashamed at how I judged her.

One evening at the gym, about 12 years after the incident, she showed up with a daughter to work out. We made small talk (we had gotten to at least that part), said our good byes and I walked out of the weight room. I made it out to my van, sat about a minute, and went back in. I asked her if we could talk. I said, “All those years ago, I did things and said things about you that I regret now. I worked it out with Tom and I do believe he accepted my apology even though it did not restore the friendship. But I never talked to you about it. I am sorry for what I said. I was wrong. I had no place to say the things I did about you. And I'm tired of being overwhelmed with shame every time we meet. Will you forgive me?”

She cried. She pulled me into a long hug. She whispered, “yes, of course I do, and thank you.” And she still hugged. I cried a little too if I'm honest. And I felt wave after wave of relief.

It wasn't until I left the gym that night, though, that I realized I had been carrying about 20 pounds of fear, shame, memories, and worry. The mental weight loss was palpable and this kind of weight loss has stayed of. What happened between Tom and Carol and me is done. Its over. It doesn't require any more energy hold on to or to fear. Now when we meet, we smile and look each other in the eye. There is friendliness there that has been missing for more than a decade. Our lives are very different so I don't really expect a friendship to be restored with Tom or with his wife. But we can meet serendipitously and talk about college and about our kids and all the awkwardness is gone.

This month I am going to ask my body for forgiveness. I have abused it. I have ignored it. I have done things with it that bring shame to me when I remember my youth (remember: I was younger just last week than I am now). To open myself up to my body and ask for forgiveness makes me mental vulnerable. It's easier to keep ignoring my body and keep abusing it rather that to really make the decision to ask for its forgiveness. I'm going to ask my body's help in releasing the anger I have with it as well. I hate my belly. I hate my man boobs. I'm asking for my body to forgive me even as I find ways to show it love, knowing I will most likely fail several times before I can succeed. 

Can you imagine the power you will have if you can truly repent and truly forgive yourself for what you've done to your body?