In Brief

• Job situation: sorted.
• Home situation: sorted.
• Emotional angst: getting there.
• Healthy lifestyle: getting there.
• Wife: healing.
• Children: growing.
• Parents: aging.
• Knees, back and ankles: aching.
• Headspace: clearing.
• Sense of humor:  Cabbage. 

I am fat me

“Imagine that you hate the color purple.  Then imagine that you move to a house where your room is purple. If you refuse to accept that the room is purple, you will never paint it a color that you want.”

A basic tenet of Buddhism is that life is painful.  Not accepting that truth is what causes suffering.  I’ve been doing a lot of work over the last 3 years or so to come to grips with this thing called Radical Acceptance.  I still don’t know if I’m getting it right, but it is accepting that things are as they are and I can’t change it.  It means riding out that pain, experiencing it, living with it until such time that the pain diminishes or the situation changes in ways that I can change it.  But refusing to accept the pain is pain squared or suffering. 

The little illustration quoted above is a neat little summation of both suffering and radical acceptance.

I’m not a Buddhist, but I believe there is wisdom to be found in its teachings. There’s a lot that goes with it.  Mindfulness, being present, letting go of the past, realizing that the future is equally intangible.  It’s really hard.  Even harder to sum up in a blog post. And I don’t understand half of it. 

I am fat.  If I refuse to accept that I am fat, I will never be in a position to change it.

See, there’s still a part of me that refuses to accept that.  Sure, I’ve given it lip service.  I’ve worked very hard at forgiving myself for getting into this situation, but I’ve not really accepted the fact that I am back at square one.  In the back of my mind, I still regard myself as a healthy skinny person that’s “put on some weight” despite all the evidence to the contrary.  It’s a coping belief; it’s a lie to get me through the day without a crushing feeling of shame and pity.  Because of this delusion, I am suffering.  I am conflict between what is and what I tell myself is.  That conflict is causing me to suffer and is a stumbling block.

So, my friends, let me state again that I am fat.  And unhealthy.  And I will continue to be fat and unhealthy until such time that I am not fat unhealthy.  I will do my best to not deny this truth in any form of self delusion or rationalization.  And I will fail.  And after I fail, I will start again.

“Fighting reality causes suffering (I hate this room).  Sometimes people get so caught up in hate that they don’t change things.  First, accept the purple-ness of the room, and then paint it.”

It’s time to paint my fat, unhealthy purple room a different color.

(I wish I knew who to credit for the quote.  I got it from an article by Brent Menninger here, but it’s unclear to me if he is the author)

It's Official

It's Official.

I am too fat for Wal-Mart.

NOTHING in my size.

Shit.

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.

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.

Back at it

I jogged tonight.  That's right ladies and gentlemen, the Jogging Clydesdale actually got his lardass out there and jogged!  Been a long time since I've actually posted a running (ok, plodding) entry.  I had been itching to get back out there but was afraid to do since I have packed all my weight back on.  310 is just so heavy to be out there pounding away.  I decided on my way home from work, however, that I was just going to do it.  And I did before I could talk myself out of it.

Mrs. C came with me and we had a nice jog around the subdivision.  I am again using the Couch to 5K program so it was more walking than plodding.  My ankles are very mad at me.  But the air was crisp and evening fell into night.  I haven't had such a pleasant run since, well, last spring I suppose.

I am going to pay for it in the morning.

Now I'm not going to make any public declarations that I am back on the wagon or that "this time I mean it." I know that I don't have the will power or discipline.  Today is sufficient for today.  Tomorrow is another day.

One day at a time, my friends.