The Puzzle

Sometimes life comes in pieces and you’re left to figure out what goes where and how to fit each component in its right place to promote function and stability.   It’s like one of those presents you get that has to be put together with the instructions from hell that are absolutely no help at all so you wind up looking at the picture on the cover to estimate and try to figure out where everything goes.  Life isn't always that predictable—sometimes the pieces fit right into place and then others take some prying and jamming and smashing to get them into where they are supposed to be.  Things happen to change us, to stretch us out of proportion and when that happens we always want to fit back into the square we fell out of, but no matter how hard we work to get back in, we just can’t find the key, the magic solution to put us back.  In life there are changes, there are events and circumstances that seem to pull us apart; like throw us into the dryer and when we come out, we are just not the same as when we went in.  So does that mean we are not as good because we’re different?  Does that mean we have to work hard to fix the difference?  Sometimes we see us in a certain point of our lives, our happy days,  and feel like that was it, that was when I was at my best and that is where I want to get back to.  Then we set the course, make the plan build the boat that will get us back there.  We remind ourselves of how good we were back then and we put up a picture and promise ourselves that this is where we will be once again in a given amount of time. But I have to wonder, is that where we need to be heading? 

 Is it ever good to turn around and go back? 

Circumstances change us.  Not everyone is a stress eater; not everyone is given to stuffing their feelings under pizza and cake, ice cream and cookies.  But everyone has situations in their lives that force them to cope and it doesn't matter what mechanism we choose to help us get through our problems, the result is usually the same.  We wind up in a hole unhappy, very dissatisfied and looking for a way out.  So we make promises to ourselves and we try to find the solution to our problem; there are many paths to take and many people standing there holding the perfect solution to get you out of your rut, but the truth of the matter is there is only one person holding the answer, only one person with the capability of pulling you out and that is you. 

It’s hard to see the full picture, when you nose is up against the canvas. 

You usually have to take a few steps back to see what’s there and when you do, you gain perspective.  What happened two years ago, where it put me, how it affected me, the pain it caused me—when I walked through that dark tunnel of time I felt so out of it, so hopeless and disconnected, but when I look back on it and see how it began and where it brought me to, suddenly I understand that it was not all for naught—it helped to mold me and make me into who I am today.  I look back and see myself on the outside and I  am upset with myself for the weight gain, the loss of health, the wasted time I spent in that hole of depression and I slap myself around for not being strong enough, smart enough to get myself out.  But then I see through the outer layers and I recognize something in me that I never quite noticed before—my strength and capability.  Somewhere in the middle of all that darkness and despair I thought I was lost and beyond hope, I felt like I would never survive or escape its borders, but I was wrong.    I look at everything going on with me, around me and I wonder how I ever made it through the hopeless haze.  Then I realize one very important detail—I am not the wimp that I once thought I was;  there is strength in me not the super hero kind that can leap tall buildings in a single bound but the kind that can go through hell and come out alive and more importantly stronger than before. 

           There is always a silver lining but it doesn't always shimmer and shine to the eye of the beholder, sometimes you have to fall on it to find it. 

I believe in destiny.  I believe things happen for a reason and in the end they always fall into place.  Life sometimes comes in pieces that we have to fit together, but at times our perfect lives are pieced together until one day something happens to make it fall apart.  When that happens we need to work at putting everything back together again but don’t be surprised if some of the pieces don’t fit back into the spots where you think they belong.  Sometimes there are piece of us that grow beyond their former space and it is important for us to see the difference and celebrate it—then move on to the bigger picture. 

The Boiling Pot

They say a watched pot never boils; it is an exercise of aggravation because when you are waiting for something to occur, it just seems like time stands still and nothing happens; at least not as quickly as you need it to.  Life will always hand you boiling pot situations and no matter how hard you stare at it, now matter how important it is for that pot to start boiling—it just won’t happen at the snap of your fingers or the bend of you will. 

It makes no difference how you got into the situation you want to get out of or in the condition you need to change anything of value takes time. 

Personally, it seems like the two years it took to build my unhealthy mess went by in a flash—I don’t even remember gaining weight, I blamed most of my inability to move on arthritis and pain.  I thought I’d lost my ability to cope but the truth of the matter is I was coping, just doing it in an unhealthy way.  So when I came to the end of the tunnel, and saw the light of reality, I looked at the mess that it had taken me two years to make and wished I could will away.  But you cannot invite an elephant to dinner and not feed it—I had to pay the piper and it will take a while to fix the mess I created.  One of the things that upsets me the most in my predicament is knowing the time it will take to fix my problem.  I think this is why the weight loss industry is such a booming business, they offer quick fixes, pills, shakes, sprinkle doo dahs that promise to make you fuller and eat less and so many supplements now that boast of miraculous components that will make you thin; lose 30 pounds in 30 day schemes are advertised on street corners—all because we are in a hurry to fix our issues and choose to ignore the fact that if it didn't come on over night, it certainly won’t slide off overnight.  Since I’ve began my weight loss journey I have been approached countless times by people selling their products—some of them are in a business and trying to make money but I know some of them have a heart and are trying to help.  I have heard speeches about how this formula really works and it will get you thin in less than six months—no one can make that promise and expect to keep it.  Oh it’s true, some of these guys have lost well over 100 pounds in six months, but what about the ones who struggle to lose four pounds a month?  What about the faithful workers of health and hope who strive tirelessly to create a better life for themselves and don’t even see a loss in one month.  Does that make them any less successful?  Does that put them below the bar?  Their pot of water may not be boiling in the ninety seconds promised—so does that mean they dump it and forget about their plans, their ideals, their future? 

I am inclined to believe that the impatient souls in life are the ones who rush through things and try to make a deal with time to short cut themselves into success.

  It cannot be done, because somewhere along the way, there will be stops, there will be delays, there will be lessons to learn about getting it right—you cannot rush perfection—it comes to us one day at a time; one precious lesson at a time, with tears of recognition and belief we rebuild what we helped to destroy and in the long run, we are the better for it.  

  Hearing Voices   

People who hear voices are not exactly the ones you want to hang around with; they are, to put it simply, crazy and in need of serious drugs.  At the risk of being labeled  a crazy woman, I have to admit, I’ve been hearing voices most of my life.   I remember my mother telling us to not go out barefoot to play because we would cut our foot open and bleed to death; I took my shoes off because the socks were making me hot and for once, threw caution to the wind and boom!  I stepped on a piece of wire and cut my foot.  There was no doubt in my mind that I was a goner, Mama was right, I cut my foot open and now I was going to die.  I wanted to run for help, call an ambulance have someone administer first aid to try to save my doomed self, but I knew the powers at work there in my back yard in Mereaux, Louisiana almost fifty years ago and I just fell on a stump and prepared to die.  Of course I didn’t, I bled a lot but once I put my foot into the mud and stated high tailing it to my house to try to find salvation, the mud stopped the bleeding and by the time I go to my mother, who, of course, threw these words into my face “Ya see!  I told you!” I was convinced that I might live.  There was a restaurant at the front of the road we lived on and we were forbidden to go in there.  As children it was easy, but when we turned to teenagers, there was something terribly appealing about Mutts Restaurant and Bar—there were games to play and of course French fries and the infamous Mutt Burger, which til this day has never given up the contents of the ‘meat’ it used to make those burgers.  I heeded the warning though, Mama said “do not go into that restaurant or you will be in trouble, and if you do, I will know.”  I stayed clear of it, my entire childhood I didn’t know what the inside of that place looked like because I was a goody goody and too afraid of what would happen to me if mama found out and she would find out.  I remember my brothers coming home who were two and four years younger than me, and she was giving them the third degree.  “I know you were in that restaurant,” she’d say and they stood their ground denying it.  “I can smell it on ya!”  And she could, if they admitted to it, they got punished; if they didn’t, they caught a beating and then they got punished.  I remember walking home with my brothers and staying a distance behind them because I did not want that smell to get on me.

 When we were older, my youngest sister and I were living in Virginia and my mother came for a visit and Maria and I were laughing at my mother’s words and warnings—If you go on a date with a boy by yourself you’ll get pregnant, if you eat pickles after six o’clock you’ll get a belly ache, if you kill a cricket in the house you’ll have bad luck, if you go swimming in the lake you’ll drown and the crabs will eat your flesh—we were laughing at her and wondering how we could have been so goofy to live under the fear of her statements for too long.  It was summer in Virginia and Maria had just had her first daughter, Brittany.  We wanted to take Brittany for a walk on the beach before dark, so we were packing our stuff and headed out the door with the baby when Mama came running after us with a blanket, two sweaters and another warning.  “You can’t take that baby out without a blanket, are you crazy?”  Maria and I looked at each other and thought ‘here we go again’.  But mama threw the sweaters at us and told us to put them on and to wrap the baby up.  She said “you know the air changes after four o’clock, you’ll come home with a cold and get pneumonia.”  We took the sweaters and the blanket, but as soon as we got into the car they all wound up on the floor as we laughed our way to the beach.  But the next day baby Brittany was sick with congestion and Maria was starting to cough, she called me after she’d talked to the doctor’s office and was fearing pneumonia.  We both repented right then and there for laughing at our mother.

 Do I believe the air changes after four o’clock and that by not wearing a sweater Maria and her child got sick?  No, I don’t, but I do believe in the power of words—words spoken over us as children and on through life.  Sometimes they lose their affect and we grow out of them, but there are so many instances when the words spoken over us land in our hearts and we have so much trouble getting out of them.  My sixth grade teacher said I was an idiot and I’d never write a good letter much less a story and I believed him, heart- broken for three years I hid my writing, was afraid to be laughed at and told how bad it was.  But in the ninth grade, another teacher saw my creative writing assignment as genius and encouraged me to do more.  By the time I was in the tenth grade, I was practically writing all of the articles in the Beauregard Bugle and had won poetry contests.   When I was a junior in high school one of my articles got the attention of a reporter on the local news and I was invited to the television station for a tour and told I had a future in journalism.  I got two scholarships when I graduated because of my writing; it’s a good thing I didn’t listen to Mr. Mean in the sixth grade, huh?  But I continued to listen to the nay sayings and the voices in my head, I let circumstances and fears keep me from taking it all of the way and instead of believing in myself and the talent I knew I had, I listened to the people who told me ‘you should be happy being a wife and mother” or “why do you always have your head in the clouds?”  or “You better learn how to be happy with what you have.  Who do you think you are any way?”  I let their words keep me from going on, I let their opinions cloud my vision, I let their doubt cripple me.  I went through life believing the voices, and not believing in myself.  I look back now and see all of the opportunities I had not just in writing but in music as well and wonder what in the world was wrong with me?  Why didn’t I just throw caution to the wind and just go for it?   I was afraid, afraid of what the voices were saying, afraid they were right and I would just fail.   So instead of doing something I did nothing and got nowhere. 

I see so many people with so much talent and I see them feeling wasted and going nowhere.  They say it’s not in what you can do it’s in who you know.  But looking back on so many years of that mentality now I have a different opinion.  I say it is about who you know—about who you know yourself to be.  If you have something, a gift a talent and you want to aspire to use it to do great things, I say go for it.  And by great things I do not mean lassoing the fashion industry with your designs and becoming the next Christian Dior. I believe there is greatness in following through with it—going beyond the drawing board and putting it on the back of somebody even if it’s just you.  If you’re a musician, it is so easy to make CDs today by setting up your own recording studio, if you have always wanted to be a recording artist—go for it, make it happen for yourself!  Whatever your dream, whatever your goals in life stop the halt—you know the one I’m talking about, the one that comes right after you get that big idea and start pushing to make it happen and then—whack!  Something stops you and you come to a frozen halt because you think maybe you’re not good enough?  What if they don’t like you?  What if you get rejected?  And whatever other voices have been put into your head to make you doubt yourself.  If you’re a writer pull out your writings, if you’re a musician, play something, sing something, if you are an artist look on the wall at all of your work—whatever your gift is—look at it and ask yourself—is it fair to keep this gift all to myself?  Plant a few seeds, give some things away and I promise you, once people see what you have they will want to see more. 

If you have the talent, use it.  If you have the opportunity, go for it.  If you seize the day, you will not regret the chance that follows—whatever it is, however it floats or falls on the floor you will know in your heart and mind that you did what you needed to do and there will be no regret.  And with every step, with every motion forward you will change the negative voice into a positive force.  Believe in yourself.  

Letting Go of the Hurt

                      Relationships are the glue in life that binds us to the things we love.

 I have always been very passionate in relationships and find it very hard to let go of a relationship especially when it is hurting me.  About a year ago, I had to let go of a lot of hurt and pain and I thought the only way to do it was to let go of the relationships.  Losing important people in my life was painful, but waiting for them to treat me the way I believe I deserved to be treated was even more painful.   So I let them go--picked up the love I felt for them, the agony I went through on a daily basis because of the way they were treating me, dis-respecting me, misjudging me--I bundled it all up in a ball and held it for one last time, hoping and praying that it was not forever and the pain they were causing me, the rift that had grown between us was only temporary and I threw it away.  But I must say that when I finally let go of those hurt feelings, the distress it brought me to feel alienated and cast aside was enough at that time to make me want to let them go.  As long as I was fighting the feelings of betrayal, resentment, anguish--I could not fix the problem that was in me.  Once I let go of what I thought was the problem, I saw that it was only a symptom of the problem.

The core of my trouble was in me.

 I am a needy person—I know that’s not cool, but I need attention, I need affection, I need affirmations and when I don’t get them I get a little nuts.  Not everybody is like me, they go on with their business, they don’t think obsessively, try to figure everything out, wonder why he said that?  Or, there must be a reason she did that!  It is my nature, I am indeed OCD and a little emotional.  Oh, alright, maybe I am a lot emotional and I don’t always need to be.   I realize that I created a lot of the problems that were destroying me.  I misunderstood things, took them to heart—let a comment or a harsh word bury me.  People say things all of the time that they are sorry for; it’s the heat of the moment that sometimes brings out the worst in all of us.  Usually, if you are not the thinker that I am accustomed to being, you can let the words go—even the ones that hit you in the heart like an arrow of hate and make you hurt like nobody’s business.  If you can be patient and wait for the sorrow to hit, those words will turn to barb wire in the mouth of the person who threw them at you and soon they will regret it and want to make amends. 

Not everyone knows how to say I’m sorry.

                It is often necessary to mend the hurts that we create, but some people don’t know how to say they are sorry.  It is beyond their ability to realize that they have created a mess, a hurt, an offense and often when they do, they rely on time to fix the pain that they have created.  This is not as it should be, but let’s face it, life is not always the way it is supposed to be and we sometimes have to make concessions.  So when you need that apology and it does not come, don’t hold on to the pain, the anger, the resentment.  The longer you do, the more you hurt.  It will destroy you.  Letting go of the agony of an attack against you, especially from someone you love dearly, is often the best thing for you to do.   You may never hear the words you wish for, you may never get the satisfaction of the apology that you really deserve but you must relinquish yourself from the anguish of carrying that offense.  Let it go, pack up all of the pain, the hurt feelings, the bitterness and resentment that it caused and roll it into a ball and throw it as far away from you as you can muster.  Once it’s gone, you can move on. 

                We are not responsible for anybody but ourselves.

                We want them to do the right thing, we want them to see the basic rules in life and follow them, but it doesn't always pan out that way.  Do not think for a moment that you can convince anyone to do what you think they need to do.  The only person that you can fix, is yourself.  The only power you have to make changes and bring about the reformations necessary in life, is the power you have to change yourself.  Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking you can force someone to see the truth and live by it.  The only person capable of taking the truth and letting it work a miracle in life is YOU.  Do the work, find the truth, make the changes and then celebrate the triumph in you.  Once you do, all of the relationships in your life will fall into place, not because they have found harmony with you, but because you have found peace with yourself.  

You are Bigger Than the Scale

Everybody loves to win--we get all pumped up and confident, we look at ourselves in an entirely different light and as we complete the game with  a win we are hearing "We Are the Champions" in our head and being lifted on somebody's shoulders and carried around the stadium while the entire world throws confetti at us.  We can live in the glory of that moment for a while--or at least until we slide down into a defeat.  Then, once we are sitting in the mud facing a loss, we are not quite so triumphant any more.  It's like that with weight loss--as long as the scale is dropping, we step off with confidence, arms raised and full of gusto and zeal.  But let him tell you something different, like you've gained 3 pounds and you can pretty much count on having a poo poo day.

Why do we put so much confidence in a box that weighs ounces and pounds?

We are, after all, trying to lose weight, so the scale is a tool that is valuable to our journey.  It is what tells us how we're doing, how much weight we've let go of and how successful our program has been.  But should the scale be the only tool we use to measure our results?  Every diet program has it--the weigh in, there is no program without it.  I've known people to go to a weigh in at night, starve all day because they don't want to eat anything that will make it look like they've gained weight.  I used to belong to a group called TOPS and they weighed every Friday Night.  There were people who had gone all day without food sitting there, ready to get weighed--they were weak and cranky and couldn't wait to see what the scale said so they could go back to their chairs and open the goody bag they'd brought to eat after they weighed.  This was a weight loss group, and while the leader was talking about healthy recipes and taking a walk for exercise everyone around her was eating their stash--I watched a man pull out an entire french bread and a pound of ham and cheese and make himself a giant sandwich; another woman ate chips and dips and yet another rewarded herself with brownies if she lost weight.  Yet, week after week they came in and got on the scale and managed to see a loss.  I thought it was amazing.  I was too shy back then to eat in front of people, I was one of the good meeting attendees who waited until I was on my way home and stopped at the Burger King on Judge Perez Drive to get my after weigh in treat.  The thing that amazed me, and still does as I look back on my many weight loss attempts at PALS, Weight Watchers, Physicians Weight Loss, Healthy Styles and now the Wellness Center is that in every program people are the same.  They work hard to get past the scale on Monday night, some of them are fasting the entire day and throwing snacks around the table as we get ready to have our meeting and they are always ready to make a stop at the Barbeque Place a few blocks down.  What does that tell me?  They fear the scale so much, they refuse to eat, spend one even two days fasting and taking fluid pills and laxatives trying to get a better result, trying to appease the scale so they can walk away feeling better about what it tells them.  I for one break out into the sweats before I weigh in--I hate the scale, I wish it would disappear into the wall.  I take off my shoes wishing they would allow me to get naked so I wouldn't have to count any clothes as part of my weight, heck some of my dresses weigh over two pounds, I know because I've weighed them on my food scale.  It is terrible to fear the box with the numbers, not knowing what it's going to tell you, but when it shows me numbers like minus seven, minus 8 minus 4--woo hoo!  I want to hug it and kiss it and buy it dinner!  But when it says minus five ounces, or plus 3 pounds--I want to turn it into a bag of bolts.  I could be feeling healthy, spry and full of energy, but if the scale does not tell me what I need it to say, I am down for the night and possible the week worrying about why I didn't lose weight and what if I step on the almighty scale next week and it tells me I've gained more?

There is something to be said about the non-scale victories.

They don't give us the "We Are the Champions" song in our head, but they do tell us that we are succeeding.  My first non-scale victory was when I got into my SUV without help.  It may sound lame to you, but when I get to the door my husband has to hold me steady enough to stand on one weak leg so I can hike my big butt into the seat and he usually has to give me a boost as I'm teetering on the edge of the seat.  But one day I got to the car and while he was getting into his strong man stance, I hopped in there all by myself.  It was glorious.  My next non-scale victory was when I walked to the door--the front door of my house, I hugged walls, I was out of breath, but for the first time since I'd accepted the fact that I would probably be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life I was walking.  That was glorious.  When I got on the bicycle for the first time in 2 years and was able to pedal full circles for five minutes--I cried--mostly because it hurt like hell, but I did something I thought I'd never do again.  When I stood outside and threw the ball for my dogs and played fetch and rope tug with them for fifteen minutes, standing....that was a victory and a reminder that what I am doing is not all about the scale.  When my husband asked me if he could do my Tai Chi Workout with me because he had pains in his arms and knees and wanted to gain flexibility and strength like ME, that was a victory.  Even more so when he couldn't make it past five minutes without moaning and groaning and finally making up a door bell so he could leave the room and escape the oriental torture but I was able to complete the workout with no complaints--now that was proof that I am not the woman who started this thing back in the beginning of December who couldn't get out of my chair by myself, much less do a 30 minute workout.  I have come so far, in spite of what the scale says.  I should revel in that.

Within each and every one of us is the ability to see a dream and make it happen.

Faith make you step out of your comfort zone to challenge yourself to do the things that you thought were impossible.  Courage defeats the nagging fear that jerks in your stomach and tries to rob you of your dream and when you take that first step you're shaking and unsure, but once you face it, seize it, complete it--you have something you thought you'd lost confidence in your ability to save yourself.  We are the master's of our destiny--we are in charge of the only success we will ever encounter.  Don't let a mechanism that weigh ounces and pounds define you, we are more than that.

It's All Up to YOU

It is said that no one can make it alone—we all need help to survive.  This is true in most cases, but when it comes to the battles that lie within the souls of all of us, there is only room for one to be the savior, the liberator, the hero.  We walk the road alone and are given the awesome task of bringing what is needed to us to change and to make the differences needed in many cases to survive.  We are not always successful and so we find ourselves digging deeper and deeper into the hole of ourselves to find the answers needed and many times fall to the wayside frustrated, wounded and defeated.  But we can’t give up, we can’t throw our hands up in the air and say “Oh well, I tried but it’s useless,” because if we do we are doomed.

            If we fail and fall down we can take a moment to suffer defeat, but then we must summon all of our strength to pick ourselves up and start again. 

It is not easy finding the solutions needed to bring change to the mess that we have allowed for so long it has become the norm.  We develop habits and when those habits become the source of defeat and hurt us time and time again, we have to find a way to make a change but change is sometimes a fearful thing and change is always brought with some level of difficulty.  It is one thing to make a quality decision to make changes in ourselves when we are confident, self-assured and full of personal resources, but when the change has to come from a damaged, weeping soul—it is difficult and all too many times it creates so much pain and discomfort we lose what little strength we possess in trying to hold on to the vision we created to help launch it.  We are the keepers of our soul and only we can recognize the needs in our lives that merit adjustment and alteration.  Just like a wedding dress needs several fittings before it is flawless and ready for that perfect day, we are constantly trying on the things that make us and many times we must amend and fine tune the fibers that create our universe until we reach that happy place where we are content.  There is a bridge between the place of who we are and who we long to become.  Many times it is hidden and we have to search for it, but all too often it is right there in front of us, waiting for us to just open our eyes and make the journey across it.  

A No Diet Resolution

I hear people talk about their new year’s resolutions a lot right now and I’d say most of them are about weight loss.  “I got  some weight I’d like to get rid of.”  “Oh you know I over did it over the holidays!  I gained so much weight I got to get if off.”  Then they go on talking about what diet they’re on—the low carb diet, the low fat diet, the cabbage soup diet, the body shape diet, the diet that actress was on who lost all that weight.  Of course they have to get into exercise, somebody walks while the other one goes to the gym, another one has a treadmill at home that gives her a real good workout.  It’s all the hype right now at the beginning of a new year and everyone is fired up, determined to make this year the year they actually follow through and get the weight off.  But by Valentine’s Day, when the chocolates hearts are dangling in the seasonal aisle at the grocery store and all of those candy boxes are staring us down when we shop, it’s going to change, it always does.  Somebody is going to crack from not having any sugar, another one is going cave from lack of pasta and one by one the New Year’s brigade of dieters is going to abandon ship and start pocketing the chocolate.  Once the chocolate becomes okay then they’ll start thinking of that nice romantic meal they have to make and how it’s okay because it’s Valentine’s Day, for goodness sake.  And then it begins, all over again. 

Why can’t people stop trying to diet and just want to eat healthy? 

It stands to reason that diets don’t work, the mere fact that we keep having to go on a diet is proof of that.  Some people aren't as bad as others, while one man may gain twenty pounds at Christmas time, his month at fitness and exercise before the big Chocolate Heart parade may be enough to get those unwanted pounds off but for another woman, her trouble begins when she gains ten pounds over the holidays.  Her battle is intense to lose a pound a week and by week five she gets hit in the face with a box of chocolates from her husband and she isn’t interested in losing weight until after Valentine’s Day, then comes Easter then her birthday,  a summer cruise, Halloween and before she knows it, it’s Christmas time again and she has gained another ten pounds over the ten she never lost from last year.  We’re always going to find reasons to over eat and splurge on candy, cookies and cake, to dive blindly into a buffet glistening with high fats and over processed foods we know are bad for us.    So Instead of trying to deny ourselves of the goodies we love until we lose the weight we gained for eating too much of them, wouldn’t it make more sense to  want to change what we’re putting in our bodies and to make healthy modifications to keep us on track all of the time? 

Being Healthy means making a commitment to lifelong changes, not a diet of sacrifice that only holds us in between seasons.

The way we eat is a choice we make all on our own.  Sometimes we just get lazy and don’t take the time to cook for ourselves, we worship the Golden Arches and pay tribute to the king of fast food.  Who wants to go home and have to defrost chicken and bake it up in a pan when you can just stop at the colonel’s?  Even at the grocery stores now they are preparing foods for us or we just go into the frozen foods and choose the frozen, fatty, processed nutritional nightmares.  No fad diet is easy it requires time and planning.  So why do we expect life to be any different? 

Chocolate does not kill people, but people go into overkill with chocolate. 

It’s like that with a lot of foods.  I have always been told to eat like a skinny person but in my life I have seen skinny people grow into not so skinny people.  Some people are extremely disciplined and I appreciate that but eating 4 almonds for breakfast with black coffee?  Please, that won’t work for me.  And I have also seen people who preach moderation who are really good in some cases, but when it comes to particular foods, I’ve seen their moderation go right out the window.  I think possessing the ability to be able to eat a sliver of cake and be satisfied is a good thing, but I’ve seen many a diabetic go for ‘just a little piece’ and walk away with the shakes or feeling quite ill, then turn around and go for it again.  There are just some things we have to face the fact about; we just can’t eat them.  I had a friend in Louisiana who was allergic to shell fish; the woman never stopped when her face swelled up, she didn’t pause when her stomach was the size of the pot they were boiling the crawfish in.  When she started to have trouble breathing, she went for a Benadryl tablet, and you’d think she’d walk away.  Not without a take home box where I’m sure he went through the same thing.  It’s crazy right?  But I’ve seen people with wheat allergies do the same thing, lactose intolerants suffer through cramps and diarrhea just for their favorite treat.

 When do we stop hurting ourselves for that temporary piece of feel good that sometime makes us so sick we can’t function?

I've been without breads, pastas and sugar for two months now and I feel the difference.   I’m not suffering with stomach problems, no nervousness, fits of moodiness and depression.  No skin rash, whelps or yeast infections.  I know these foods are hurting me, so why would I ever want to go back to them again?  It’s the same thing with excessive servings of butter, oils and other unhealthy foods.  I am in a place now eating wholesome foods, fresh vegetables and fruit, no dairy except for Greek yogurt and incorporating healthy whole grains into my meals.  Why would I want to go back to eating the other stuff and feeling bad again?  I don’t want to and I am aware of the fact that being healthy takes work.  Planning, prepping, preparing healthy meals—that’s work.  I can’t allow myself to get lazy and I can’t allow myself to believe the lie that if I eat those things again, it will make me feel better.  Healthy is in how we eat, in the changes we make and the choices we take.  

The Fat Lady’s Workout

        There are Challenges going across the internet to make you stronger and fit; squats, burpees, marathons.  I find myself excited about the possibility and motivated to enter in.  The first one that caught my eye was the squat, but considering my size and my limitations, I wasn’t exactly squat worthy.  Not wanting to be left out or touted as the fat, disabled woman who can’t do much of anything, I made it my business to enter in.  I needed to find a way to do a squat, howbeit ever so altered, so that I could join in on the challenge.  I found myself standing and sitting in my chair—that lasted all of six times and I was feeling muscles in my thighs and butt that rang out in a chorus of pain.  Then I moved to the walker—stand, squat, stand, squat—yeah, that was even harder.  I put pillows on the bed and sat high then stood up, this would have worked if the pillows had not crumbled to the floor every time I stood.  I leaned against the wall and slid to a squat—once was all I could do of that.  I was about to give up when I saw the ball; the big red stability ball my chiropractor told me to use to stretch my back and just sit on when my back hurt to relieve the pressure.  It’s a big ball, the biggest they make—after pumping and pumping with his foot on a bicycle pump, my husband was having serious leg cramps and crying for the Tylenol and had to take it to the gasoline station to be filled.  Now the ball has possibilities—not only is it high enough for me to sit on without knee pain, it has bounce—serious bounce.  As soon as I got it situated between the sofa and the wall and knew it wasn’t going to be rolling anywhere, I gave it a whirl.  With the walker in front of me for support, I pumped twenty five squats, no problem!  I was so tickled, I celebrate with my favorite “woo hoo!” and ran to my daughter’s room to brag about my accomplishment.  Then to prove it to her, I pulled the ball into the living room to give her a sample of my fabulousness—I did another twenty five and we both echoed in “woo hoo!”  My husband came late to the party wanting to know what I was so excited about, so I showed him and managed to crank out another twenty five!  The celebration continued and I was feeling a bit shaky but less than two hours later, I did the final twenty five squats that had me at the peak of the challenge.  I was so proud of myself I reported it to my Facebook friends feeling like the bad mamma jamma that I knew I was.  Four hours later, I was crying in the shower with low back pain and screaming muscles in my thighs with a popping in my knees so loud is sounded like marbles hitting the floor.  Not to mention the fact that I had a pain in the ass like nobody’s business.  The bad mamma jamma was down for the count, reaching for pain pills and muscle relaxers and praying for relief. 

      So what did I learn from that painful experience?  Did it make me shy away from workouts all together?  No, it filled me with determination—not determination to keep up with the challenges being issued by the younger girls on the web who were jazzed up with excitement and endorphins making fit bodies with their spandex attire and sweat but to create new ones.  Not everybody can do the squats or burpees—which, by the way, I thought was something you did after drinking too much soda.   There are those of us who can barely pick up the things we drop on the floor and an aerobic workout is walking to the door to get the mail.  I realized that I am not the only person who has the physical limitations that keep us out of the gyms and fitness centers—not all machines are created equal and one size does not fit all.  We might be able to buy the walking shoes or the running shoes, put them on our feet and lace them up, but the walking and the running is a goal we find off in the future and in the meantime, we are faced with this question; how will I manage to work out in my condition?  You would think that a woman who was a certified fitness trainer and instructor for years would have the answer to this question.  Oh, I know how to work out, I know how to push someone to get them to give it their best and sweat their way to a stronger, healthier goal.  Problem is, once you get past a certain size and are held back by so many physical limitations—it is not easy to find a workout that works.  So what do you do?  Lose the weight without bothering to work out?  I know many have done this, but honestly  I believe there are so many benefits to working out; moving, becoming flexible and aiding in cardiovascular fitness not to mention the fact that movement promotes mobility.  I believe that as long as we can move something, we can get a workout. 

        So, what does a 400 pound woman who has to sit in a wheelchair a lot of the time who has to hug walls and dodge puppies to walk to the bathroom do to get a workout?  She starts by lifting her legs—gentle kicks, toe taps, knee raises.  Then she adds arm movements, bicep curls, arms over head, arm out, chest flies, elbow lifts—my butt is planted, but I’m moving.  I started doing stretching and breathing first thing in the morning.  Then I added a hand bike, an ergometer type machine that I got from Sears.  I knew I could not walk a mile, but I challenge myself to walk a minute—I know this sounds trivial to the upright and mobile, but to the woman in the chair a one minute walk down the hall and to the front door was a long way to have to go.  I could lie on the bed and do crunches and leg lifts but not nearly as many as I had once done, so I started with a small number and am working my way up.  The recumbent stationary cycle in the garage that I stopped using because it hurt my legs to much to operate, came back inside and I managed to get myself on it and pedaled as long as I could take the pain, which was about five minute.  Then I tied a band with handles to the handle bars and did resistance work for five minutes, then managed to pedal the cycle for another five.  I was amazed at what I could do. 

        Am I saying this is what every physically disabled person who has a knee and back problem complicated by a serious weight gain should do?  Heck no, we are all different and we all know what we can and cannot do.  But I am here to tell you that I was limiting myself and because of depression, feeling badly and thinking my life was over and there was no sense in trying,  I had dug myself into a pit of despair with walls of fear that said “don’t do it, you’ll hurt yourself and maybe die!”  It took being in a support group and having some wonderful, kind souls speak courage to me they motivated me to push myself to do more.  That is when I realized I was not as weak or as buried as I’d made myself believe.  Their challenges, howbeit not suitable for my situation, had pulled something out of me that I thought I’d lost—strength, belief in myself and courage to take a chance. 

        So I don’t do the squats or the marathons, I have decided to return the favor and be the poster child for the big people in the chairs, the ones who sit in their cars for ten minutes or more because they just don’t have the strength to pick themselves up and make the walk inside the house.  The ones who wake up in the morning and can’t seem to move or want to get dressed even to start their day because they know the pain of those first steps in the morning and just don’t want to go there.  The ones who put off simple tasks like standing at the kitchen counter chopping and dicing or even stirring the pot; the pain has become so harsh standing seems too much to bear.  The ones who look longingly at their back yards and wish they could do the gardening, the ones who want to pull the bike out and hit the trail but just can’t stay balanced long enough to get out of the driveway.  There are so many people who have painted themselves into a corner who hurt too much to move and have become sedentary to a crippling point where they would not be able to recognize the person in the mirror if they could only muster the courage to face him.  This is the small portion of society that I want to reach—the hopeless, the self-haters, the ones who search for a spark, a glint of a fire that will pick them up and set them on a path to get their life back.  I make my own challenges, easy to accomplish like doing abdominal crunches and leg lifts.  I write fru-fru poems and post my simple breakthrough that I know are the product of scorn and ridicule by some who think they have risen above my level of fitness and I say more power to them.  But right here, right now in my little corner of the world, I want to make a difference in myself first—and then light a fire under the chairs of the sedentary seemingly hopeless people who can’t see past their inability to the bright future that is still theirs.