I’ve been reflecting a lot this week, maybe you have too. My Generation X hat has come in handy during these COVID-19 shelter in place guidelines. I’ve always been good on my own.
However, just because I’m scrappy and independent doesn’t mean that people and community don’t matter. The truth is, without those two things, I NEVER would have lost 115 pounds.
With some extra time on my hands this week, I’ve looked back at some of my journal entries from before my JenX Journey began in October of 2015. I thought I’d share this one with you. I never would have thought in a million years when writing this that I would be sharing this with the JenX universe, but here it goes.
My hope is that someone relates and doesn’t feel quite as alone.
If this speaks to you, reach out and let me know.
Also, my JenX Journey is ever shifting and my quest for the next few weeks is to figure out how I can better help and connect with people. Whether its a private Facebook group, coaching, accountability sessions, advice/support from me, Q & A sessions, etc. Please let me know what you could use help with right now!
I think this quarantine has us all feeling a little fluffy! I could use a little support too!
Excerpt from JenX Journey’s personal journal – Before the Journey Began
|This photo of Mike and I was taken on Spring Break 2014, about three weeks after I wrote this post.
Mar 7, 2014, 9:51 PM
I am struggling tonight. I’m lost. I don’t know how to find myself. Truth is, I’m hiding. So I guess I can’t be lost. Denial is more like it. Avoidance, neglect, indifference, aloof, I’ll-do-the-hurting-before-I-get-hurt-tactic, etc. Words that have described me and human relationships my entire life.
Everyone else around me is thin. I used to be in the company of people my size, but back then I wasn’t as big as I am now. Now, I’m one of the few, sometimes the lone big person. When I’m in the room with other people I scour it to identify myself as the fattest person in the room and I feel shame. Its like I’m seeking out my own shame. The irony is that to make myself feel better, I often eat.
I see myself as the only one with the problem of controlling what and how much I eat. Everyone else seems to have this issue under control but me. I have some sort of defect that prevents me from shoving food in my mouth incessantly. Either that or I’m extremely lazy in that I am not at the gym or walking 5 miles like everyone else I seem to know.
Even my own son is playing sports, eating right and on the treadmill. Shame on me.
Everyone in Starbucks is fit. Even fast food restaurants…although I’m guessing those of us that are overweight go through the drive thru and shove down our food while we are in the car. Doesn’t count if no one sees it, right?
Most days I’m pooped. Tired of working. I don’t keep house well, I don’t stay on top of laundry and I don’t cook my family meals as often as I should. I don’t walk my dogs and give them the activity they deserve as often as I should. I talk and think about these things All. The. Time.
But I’m tired and I hate the burden. I’m probably borderline depressed, but I hate labels and medication and I think it’s up to everyone to find their own path.
Therapy hasn’t really worked for me in the past. I’ve read enough self-help books to give the seminars myself. I have this weird combination of having this extreme confidence and knowing I’m smart, capable and could accomplish anything I wanted to if I put my mind to it vs. this deep-seeded insecurity, fear of sharing my feelings and being vulnerable. I am the person that pushes down my emotions with food.
I don’t talk a lot and I like my alone time. However, I secretly hate it when all of us home and we are all in different rooms looking at different screens (sometimes two at a time) and barely say two words to one another in an evening.
Sad part is that I’ve probably encouraged and modeled this behavior by being such a loner.
I claim to love the outdoors and activity and all of this stuff, but the truth is that while I think about it – I never get up and do it.
I apparently prefer to sit. And wallow. And think about what I might do. One day.
What the hell is my problem?
In re-reading this, my reflection is that this is one of the first times I started calling myself out on my own bullshit. I was basically saying to myself, you blabber on in your journal about all the things you want…how ’bout you get your ass up and do it.
About 18-months later, things began to change for good. While I needed other people to help me, the first step was a change inside of me. That I had to let hopelessness go. To see a little window of hope and to seek out the support I needed. To not give up.
To not “sit” and “wallow.” That “one day” could be right now.
The change is still happening every day. Still a struggle. Still highs and lows.
Still. Worth. Every. Second.
Keep food-fighting, friends,