I have been holding out and waiting for the “right” time to publish another post on my blog. There was definitely enough material to post about; but I still had been hesitating. A couple of days ago, I was having what I like to call an “Erika pity party” and I began to realize why I have been hesitating and, more importantly, that this hesitation has brought my resolve and progress to a screeching halt. I will dub this blog post as an “intervention” of sorts. I’m going to be very honest and open about my thoughts and experiences as of late. The truth is, with some bad habits being peppered into my usual routine, my weight began to teeter-totter between 2-5 pounds each week. This spurred more negative nutrition, less gym time, more negative reflection, and some depression. Yesterday, while looking in the mirror I felt my body swelling, my face looked puffy, my stomach felt ill; I could hardly look at myself in the mirror. I felt myself slipping away. All I could do is cry. During this time of weakness, my fiancée, Laura, forced me recognize that during this time of weakness I had constructed a distorted and negative self-image.
First, let me start this stage of my “intervention” by saying: I wholeheartedly believe that it is important to live your life. Taking on a healthy lifestyle should not mean putting yourself in a box and restricting your nutrition in a way that limits your life experiences. However, you need to be honest with yourself when the time comes to commit to your plan and your progress. Enjoying a slice of cake at a birthday party will not ruin you. Eating a couple of cupcakes at a party, a bowl of ice cream tomorrow, and a chicken finger sub the next day will have its consequences, however.
With that small disclaimer out of the way, I must tell you that for the last handful of weeks I have been “living” extravagantly. Out of town family, birthday parties, and summer events have brought my ambition, desire, and discipline to an all-time low. What’s worse than poor nutrition is the negative body image I have created. When I eat poorly my body forces me to feel the consequences. That has translated into a damaging and destructive self-image. I catch my reflection in a mirror and begin to fixate on every little thing I want to change. It is then I am reminded of the defeat, embarrassment, and self-loathing that plagued me before I uncovered myself a year ago.
Time for the sappy, self-discovery mumbo-jumbo! I have shared the importance of having a close-knit group of supporters in any weight loss endeavor. I am so very fortunate to be surrounded by the most compassionate group of people anyone could ask for. A couple who continue to inspire me by accomplishing and crushing their own goals each and every day, family who have embarked on their own personal journey that motivate me in the most difficult of times, a beautiful girl who looks to me for the extra motivation and dries my tears through the struggle, the list grows every day. Maybe I should write “spotlight” posts on some of these fantastic people to share a piece of the inspiration I have found through my relationships with them. Now THERE is a thought!!
I want to share a personal moment with you so that you may understand just how monumental the aforementioned support has been during my weakest moments. I will be honest here and say that my fiancée hears the bulk of any emotional struggle I have gone through. However, there are the rare times that even her words don’t heal the wound (because she’s my girlfriend and by unwritten law she has to say these things, you see). So, the time came like so many have before: I walked into the gym and started my training session. My trainer and I got to work right away- and ten minutes hadn’t passed before he could tell that I was simply going through the motions. Something more had to be done. After talking awhile, he took me into another room where he decided we needed to “hit some shit”; and sweet baby jesus, that is just what we did.
I had become so focused on the last 25-30 pounds I have left to lose that I had forgotten where I started in the first place. My trainer, Carley (yes he is a boy and that is his real name), became determined to remind me how hard I had worked to rid myself of each pound in the last year and a half. So, I took a sledgehammer and hit a tractor tire with everything I had…90 times; one strike for each painstaking pound. The first few slams were simple but the further I progressed into my reps my shoulders fatigued, my breath shortened, my chest tightened, and it became increasingly difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Carley stood by me, chanting, as I struggled through it. SLAM. “Don’t stop now”. SLAM. “You can’t give up on yourself”. SLAM. “Remember how hard you worked for those first 25lbs”? SLAM. “I know it is hard, Erika, but you’re not done yet”. SLAM. Each hit took a toll on my body and, ever so slowly, all of the self-doubt began to chip away. Corny, emotional, and stinking of symbolism? You bet. But it had to be done; I have never felt more invigorated.
I can’t testify enough to the importance of having a handful of these positive influences in your life. Someone to push, encourage, enlighten, and challenge you. It is something I have been grateful for in every step of my journey. Not all trainers are created equal. There are some out there who get into the business for the wrong reasons. The ones who actually listen, challenge, and inspire are few and far between. The good ones come to work every day hoping to help someone improve their overall well being. They exemplify social work in action. They’re definitely worth keeping.
My intent for this post is two-fold: to examine the darker side of weight loss that is rarely spoken of and to praise the hands that reach out to pull you back into the light. I have successfully adopted a healthy lifestyle, ran a couple of 5 Ks, finished a 44-mile bike ride, lost 90+lbs, and discovered a self-love that I was never capable of before. All this and I continue to struggle every single day. I struggle to remind myself I am worth it, that I am capable, that I will never again be the girl I once was. The stronger I commit to self-improvement; I am met with an equal amount of challenges. I have begrudgingly accepted that while there will never be a final ending in this journey; it is possible to develop a resilience to these darker stages. That resilience is the more important element to the post, simply because hope is the greatest motivator. My resilience exists thanks to the hands that carried me through every weak moment, continue to push me past my limits, and encourage excellence each and every day.
