Yesterday evening I stepped on the scale and found to my horror that I did in fact weight MORE than I weighed the first tine I started our program. I think I was kind of waiting for it, pushing it up ever closer (I gained 10 pounds this week…who does that?). Why? I don’t know. Maybe in a way it was to put an exclamation point on and bring closure to the last 2.5 years of consistent weight gain, almost to force myself to say “ENOUGH OF THIS CRAZINESS!”
I think my compulsive overeating and over-drinking is a form of “self-harm” yet I don’t feel I do it intentionally TO self-harm. I don’t think about much when I’m engaging it in actually, except that I like to eat and I like to drink, I like the short-term effects of having done them both, it is a way for me to kind of rebel and to “cut loose” and to “relax” because it seems my whole life is about regulating what I eat and drink. So, when I STOP doing that (regulating) it’s like I’m getting the burden of that particular discipline off my back, because it’s pretty exhausting.
But then I pay the consequences for it, which are, truth be told, MORE exhausting and demoralizing to boot. I have to face people I haven’t seen for a very long time and see the moment of shock registered on their faces because, let’s face it, it is pretty shocking to see someone gain over 100 pounds since the last time you saw them.
Then I feel like a failure and a “has-been” all over again, which continues the cycle of self-soothing with food and drink.
I think I’m mad at God. I know I should not be, and it’s weird to even type those words out loud and “admit” to it, almost like I’m breaking come eternal cardinal rule or something, but then I think of Job and don’t feel like its taboo to recognize how you feel and write it down. Now, I’m not claiming to have any rights to be mad at God like Job did, but I think I’m more disappointed in MYSELF and how I’ve handled (or not handled) the challenges that life has given me.
I’ve always had a desire, truly, to be “normal” and live a “normal” life and I know that sounds extremely strange. The fact of the matter is that God has called our family to a very ABNORMAL life, in challenging ways, and I don’t know if I’m up for the task.
I feel a sense of grief on one hand for my son and the challenges he was born with and will need to continue facing in his life, and I feel a sense of loss and helplessness in my inability to make things better for him, to make things easier for him, to make things more “normal” for him. In that he’s our only child I also feel a sense of deep uncertainty about our future and his, since usually children take care of their aging parents, I feel that our son may not be one of those types of children and in fact we will be taking care of HIM which is fine but also scary because what happens when WE are gone? Who will he have? Who will take care of him? What will his life be like?
Worry worry worry, about things I can’t control. What I CAN control is what I do today, which direction my health is going. What I CAN control is how my husband and I continue to train and equip our son to be independent and to be a man of virtue and character. He’s 12 years old, so we do have a little bit of time left to do that before he is all of a sudden a MAN.
I can tell you this for today, however, I do feel like I’ve lost my joy. I misplaced it somewhere along the way, and I haven’t been able to find it for a good long time. If you see it lying around somewhere, can you let me know? I didn’t put a GPS microchip in it, so you may not even know who it belongs to, but perhaps some day it will find its way back to me.