im sitting at the airport, typing on my new fangled phone. im glad it allows me to write, though i can not figure out how to capitalize or use other common punctuations. please pardon the mess.
the title does not refer to planes. thankfully. today it is grief that is crashing in on me. as we drove to the airport the reality of our coming move overwhelmed me. i had forgotten what the depths of mourning felt like. my heart ache is so great that my chest literally hurts. my breathe keeps catching and choking me.
we are going to see the new area where we are to live. we will move in about five months. my husband has a meeting with his new employer. the facts sound so boring. i wish there was a font that dripped down the page. not that i could figure out how to use it.
the prospect of leaving behind my sisters, nieces, nephews, friends, and church family is inducing nausea. i know that jesus is a god who gives. but right now it feels like everything is being taken away from me. it feels like this move is just for my husband, and i am along for the ride. i feel quite alone and unloved by god.
good thing feelings do not dictate reality. i stubbornly believe that christ is for me. because he says so. if only my heart will catch up with my head. . .
but now i am off to purchase an over priced sandwich and rejoice with my son that our plane has landed and awaits us.
by the way, it was super brutal to not capitalize every reference to jesus. at least my respect has not waned within this great sadness
copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
One Month Without a Scale
My, but have I learned somethings about myself this past month.
Week 1 - Detox
I knew I didn't have a healthy relationship with my scale, but I didn't realize just how bad I was until I suddenly didn't have it anymore.
I used to weigh myself every day except Sundays. (I would take a sabbath rest from self loathing.) By the time I tossed that tool, though, I was weighing myself upwards of three times a day. Not healthy. Also, not helpful. When I threw out my scale my son was two months old and I had lost NO baby weight. I was literally down just 7 pounds from the day I had him. He weighed 7 pounds at birth.
I felt the emptiness in the bathroom each time I went in for the first week. Each time I entered I looked toward the spot where it had been. Feeling the great void confirmed how much I had been abusing the scale.
Week 2 - Wrestling and Relief
I have said for years that I don't care what the scale says as long as I look good and feel good. I am blessed to have super strong bones and muscles. So I carry a lot more weight than I appear to. Suddenly not having a specific number to judge myself by, though, threw that declaration into question. My thoughts seemed to mock me, "You say you don't care what the scale says: Prove it."
The problem, though, is that I neither look good nor feel good. I am overweight, and it shows. I had one very sad day of realizing that I so very much want to be thin. But right now I'm just not. Why it took me getting rid of my scale to realize this, I don't know. But no longer having the distraction of dancing numbers forced me to acknowledge that I didn't meet my own definition of beauty.
I had a few days when my feet, knees and back were really hurting me. Convinced it was because of my weight I was frustrated that I didn't have the scale available to confirm my suspicions. Not that it would have helped my joints feel better, but I wanted something to join in on the assault of self.
That's the wrestling. Here's the relief that came in week 2: I started drinking water when I was thirsty and only went to the bathroom to use the plumbing-related facilities. When I would weigh myself everyday I wanted to see as low a number as possible. If I knew I was heading to the bathroom, I would wait to get a drink until afterwards. Now, this only delayed my re-hydrating by about three minutes, but still: that's ridiculous.
Week 3 - Decisions
Since my main tool to measure my health was gone I had to start looking toward other metrics. The other ones I used were a bit subjective, though. Looking at my reflection, or down at my flesh was a bit brutal. Squeezing my various parts was even more unpleasant. Testing my body by the fit of my clothing was also awful as pretty much everything pinched. Ugh. So what to do?
I decided to go with my reflection and my clothing. Though jeans do fit differently straight from the dryer than they do after the second wearing, they are pretty consistent overall. I have a couple of landmarks on my body that I was watching, too. The main one was the rolls of back fat that appeared with this most recent pregnancy. Gross. It looks like I carried him in my back, not my abdomen.
I made one other decision: reduce my sugar. It's my gateway drug. I can eat nutritious, balanced meals for days on end. Give me one cookie, though, and I'm soon swallowing a half dozen cookies, then washing them down with hot cocoa. This is the first I've mentioned it. I find it so much easier for me to make healthy changes all by myself. I don't know why. Most every weight-loss expert says to have a support team. My success comes from quiet focus, though. Anyhow, I am now eating fruit for my sweet-fixes. Except for Sundays. I allow myself one sweet treat on Sundays at our church's weekly potluck. And my husband bringing me something sweet is an allowed "cheat". He pretty much never thinks about adding sugar at the end of meals, (crazy head) so if he hands me a foil-wrapped chocolate morsel I take it as a kiss from God. It's funny, but I almost didn't write this paragraph because I'm afraid my man will read it and withhold chocolate from me now. Another indication of my esteeming chocolate way too much.
Week 4 - Progress
I think I may have lost a few pounds. But I don't know for sure! Arg! I'm doing pretty good about the reduced-sugar-thing. It's hard because there have been a lot of special occasions lately. When I fall off the wagon, though, I just hop back on next meal. I don't wait until Monday or next month to eat well again. I've done crunches a few times. My abdominal muscles are still split from my pregnancy, so it takes shockingly little time to feel the burn. Today I was actually pleasantly surprised when I put on my jeans. Though they're still a little snug at the waist, I'm not sporting the muffin top I had a month ago. And my ew-gross rolls on my back look like they might actually be getting a little smaller. I will for-sure do a happy dance when they are gone. But progress is progress. Woo hoo!
I tossed my scale last month, but I did keep the paper that used to rest on it.
It never made me cry, but it also never made me thin.
copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.
Week 1 - Detox
I knew I didn't have a healthy relationship with my scale, but I didn't realize just how bad I was until I suddenly didn't have it anymore.
I used to weigh myself every day except Sundays. (I would take a sabbath rest from self loathing.) By the time I tossed that tool, though, I was weighing myself upwards of three times a day. Not healthy. Also, not helpful. When I threw out my scale my son was two months old and I had lost NO baby weight. I was literally down just 7 pounds from the day I had him. He weighed 7 pounds at birth.
I felt the emptiness in the bathroom each time I went in for the first week. Each time I entered I looked toward the spot where it had been. Feeling the great void confirmed how much I had been abusing the scale.
Week 2 - Wrestling and Relief
I have said for years that I don't care what the scale says as long as I look good and feel good. I am blessed to have super strong bones and muscles. So I carry a lot more weight than I appear to. Suddenly not having a specific number to judge myself by, though, threw that declaration into question. My thoughts seemed to mock me, "You say you don't care what the scale says: Prove it."
The problem, though, is that I neither look good nor feel good. I am overweight, and it shows. I had one very sad day of realizing that I so very much want to be thin. But right now I'm just not. Why it took me getting rid of my scale to realize this, I don't know. But no longer having the distraction of dancing numbers forced me to acknowledge that I didn't meet my own definition of beauty.
I had a few days when my feet, knees and back were really hurting me. Convinced it was because of my weight I was frustrated that I didn't have the scale available to confirm my suspicions. Not that it would have helped my joints feel better, but I wanted something to join in on the assault of self.
That's the wrestling. Here's the relief that came in week 2: I started drinking water when I was thirsty and only went to the bathroom to use the plumbing-related facilities. When I would weigh myself everyday I wanted to see as low a number as possible. If I knew I was heading to the bathroom, I would wait to get a drink until afterwards. Now, this only delayed my re-hydrating by about three minutes, but still: that's ridiculous.
Week 3 - Decisions
Since my main tool to measure my health was gone I had to start looking toward other metrics. The other ones I used were a bit subjective, though. Looking at my reflection, or down at my flesh was a bit brutal. Squeezing my various parts was even more unpleasant. Testing my body by the fit of my clothing was also awful as pretty much everything pinched. Ugh. So what to do?
I decided to go with my reflection and my clothing. Though jeans do fit differently straight from the dryer than they do after the second wearing, they are pretty consistent overall. I have a couple of landmarks on my body that I was watching, too. The main one was the rolls of back fat that appeared with this most recent pregnancy. Gross. It looks like I carried him in my back, not my abdomen.
I made one other decision: reduce my sugar. It's my gateway drug. I can eat nutritious, balanced meals for days on end. Give me one cookie, though, and I'm soon swallowing a half dozen cookies, then washing them down with hot cocoa. This is the first I've mentioned it. I find it so much easier for me to make healthy changes all by myself. I don't know why. Most every weight-loss expert says to have a support team. My success comes from quiet focus, though. Anyhow, I am now eating fruit for my sweet-fixes. Except for Sundays. I allow myself one sweet treat on Sundays at our church's weekly potluck. And my husband bringing me something sweet is an allowed "cheat". He pretty much never thinks about adding sugar at the end of meals, (crazy head) so if he hands me a foil-wrapped chocolate morsel I take it as a kiss from God. It's funny, but I almost didn't write this paragraph because I'm afraid my man will read it and withhold chocolate from me now. Another indication of my esteeming chocolate way too much.
Week 4 - Progress
I think I may have lost a few pounds. But I don't know for sure! Arg! I'm doing pretty good about the reduced-sugar-thing. It's hard because there have been a lot of special occasions lately. When I fall off the wagon, though, I just hop back on next meal. I don't wait until Monday or next month to eat well again. I've done crunches a few times. My abdominal muscles are still split from my pregnancy, so it takes shockingly little time to feel the burn. Today I was actually pleasantly surprised when I put on my jeans. Though they're still a little snug at the waist, I'm not sporting the muffin top I had a month ago. And my ew-gross rolls on my back look like they might actually be getting a little smaller. I will for-sure do a happy dance when they are gone. But progress is progress. Woo hoo!
I tossed my scale last month, but I did keep the paper that used to rest on it.
It never made me cry, but it also never made me thin.
copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Dare we ask?
So many people stand in the first week of January, look over the empty calendar, and wonder with curious expectation what is coming. I'm usually one of those people.
January 2011 found my husband and me getting numerous calls from our adoption coordinator asking if we wanted to be presented to various birth moms. Our answer was always a resounding, "yes!" Last January the only thing I was confident that was going to happen during the year was our adoption, our anniversary and our birthdays. I was right about our 6th anniversary, right about my first born turning three, and right about my husband and I sinking deeper into our 30s. But that was all I was right about. Here's how my year unfolded (all unexpected, unplanned):
January: Chosen by a birth mom. Start serving in new ministry. Celebrate the 8th anniversary of my salvation. Meet birth mom. Turn in massive pile of paperwork. Write checks. Scammed. Defrauded. No baby. Money gone. Heart broken.
February: Grieve. Anger stage more closely resembles rage. Jesus quickly heals. Shock: Stare at two blue lines on a pregnancy test. Drop to my knees, sobbing praise and thanks to God for the impossible.
March: Matched with another birth mom. Meet with detective and secret service agent about scam. I start spotting. Sob. Drop off son. Sob. Dash to ultrasound. Sob in relief and gratitude. There's a heartbeat! Our baby is alive. And could it be that we can already see he's a boy? No fraud, but no baby. Birth mom chose to parent the baby. Happy Birthday to me. Celebrate my first born's birthday with family & friends. Announce pregnancy.
April: Learn all sorts of awesome things in Scripture. My journal has too many entries and they are too great of truths to summarize. Sweet time.
May: Speak at Ladies' Retreat for my church. Attend graduation of best friend. Cheer as she enters the profession I have left behind. Ultrasound confirms that yes, we are having another boy. Another healthy boy. Celebrate six years of marriage with my man. Head to the Lake.
June: Mind, body, spirit refreshed by reading Hebrews, 1 Peter, and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
July: My husband is offered a job out of nowhere. It is on the other side of the country. Are we moving?!?
August: Routine checkup reveals my son's heart is fast and irregular. Level 2 ultrasound 2 days later shows a beautiful, healthy heart. An immature electrical system in T's heart lead to worry in mine.
September: The Lake with family. We ARE moving, but *only* 10 hours away from my beloved family & home.
October: Say "hello" to due date. Say "good-bye" to due date. Sweet T is born at home. (Read more here. Brave first road trip to Branson as a family of four. Happy Birthday to my man.
November: Leave position at ministry started in January. Thanksgiving.
December: Christmas. Begin process of preparing heart and home for move this summer.
And that was just my immediate family. The brain-aching twists and turns in my extended family were extraordinary, also.
So, dare I ask what is coming this year? No, not today. The first week of 2012 has been lovely. I've enjoyed it. I'm going to enjoy it.
I know that my asking, or not, will not change the course laid out for me this coming year. I'm just ditching my normal pattern of filling my mind with worry, speculation & tentative plans for every possibility. I'm going to live my life. The ever-changing, good, unexpected life I am blessed to have.
copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.
January 2011 found my husband and me getting numerous calls from our adoption coordinator asking if we wanted to be presented to various birth moms. Our answer was always a resounding, "yes!" Last January the only thing I was confident that was going to happen during the year was our adoption, our anniversary and our birthdays. I was right about our 6th anniversary, right about my first born turning three, and right about my husband and I sinking deeper into our 30s. But that was all I was right about. Here's how my year unfolded (all unexpected, unplanned):
January: Chosen by a birth mom. Start serving in new ministry. Celebrate the 8th anniversary of my salvation. Meet birth mom. Turn in massive pile of paperwork. Write checks. Scammed. Defrauded. No baby. Money gone. Heart broken.
February: Grieve. Anger stage more closely resembles rage. Jesus quickly heals. Shock: Stare at two blue lines on a pregnancy test. Drop to my knees, sobbing praise and thanks to God for the impossible.
March: Matched with another birth mom. Meet with detective and secret service agent about scam. I start spotting. Sob. Drop off son. Sob. Dash to ultrasound. Sob in relief and gratitude. There's a heartbeat! Our baby is alive. And could it be that we can already see he's a boy? No fraud, but no baby. Birth mom chose to parent the baby. Happy Birthday to me. Celebrate my first born's birthday with family & friends. Announce pregnancy.
April: Learn all sorts of awesome things in Scripture. My journal has too many entries and they are too great of truths to summarize. Sweet time.
May: Speak at Ladies' Retreat for my church. Attend graduation of best friend. Cheer as she enters the profession I have left behind. Ultrasound confirms that yes, we are having another boy. Another healthy boy. Celebrate six years of marriage with my man. Head to the Lake.
June: Mind, body, spirit refreshed by reading Hebrews, 1 Peter, and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
July: My husband is offered a job out of nowhere. It is on the other side of the country. Are we moving?!?
August: Routine checkup reveals my son's heart is fast and irregular. Level 2 ultrasound 2 days later shows a beautiful, healthy heart. An immature electrical system in T's heart lead to worry in mine.
September: The Lake with family. We ARE moving, but *only* 10 hours away from my beloved family & home.
October: Say "hello" to due date. Say "good-bye" to due date. Sweet T is born at home. (Read more here. Brave first road trip to Branson as a family of four. Happy Birthday to my man.
November: Leave position at ministry started in January. Thanksgiving.
December: Christmas. Begin process of preparing heart and home for move this summer.
And that was just my immediate family. The brain-aching twists and turns in my extended family were extraordinary, also.
So, dare I ask what is coming this year? No, not today. The first week of 2012 has been lovely. I've enjoyed it. I'm going to enjoy it.
I know that my asking, or not, will not change the course laid out for me this coming year. I'm just ditching my normal pattern of filling my mind with worry, speculation & tentative plans for every possibility. I'm going to live my life. The ever-changing, good, unexpected life I am blessed to have.
copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.
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