Saturday, February 11, 2012

Judge Not ...


Sorry ... I didn't mean to yell.  

Actually I did ... just not at you.  I know you would never judge me (after all, you could just stop reading if you didn't like me).  You are kind, caring ... you look to see the best in people ... you see the best in me.  I have no reason to yell at you.

No, I'm trying to send this message to myself (though I notice I used the word trying, so who knows whether it'll actually work).  I make excuses to myself, and I make excuses for myself, but I don't believe either one, and I can't stop judging me.  

I have gained 40 pounds in the past 10 months.  And I'm absolutely disgusted by that fact.

Now I admit that some of the weight came on from a bit of stress eating (it hasn't exactly been a great 10 months), but the reality is that most of it is not my fault.  For the most part, I eat healthy food.  For the most part, I eat reasonable portions.  I do not deserve this weight ... or this disgust.

As I've mentioned before, I've had a bunch of health issues for quite a while.  The most recent flare-up really threw me for a loop.  We've figured out some things, but a lot is still unexplained, and all of it is working against me.  When you start with pain and fatigue on a regular basis, then discover a new thyroid problem (slow metabolism), and add in medication that causes weight gain, it's a recipe for disaster.  

So ... hi, my name is Disaster.  Actually, I usually go by Walking Talking Disaster Mess, but you can just call me Disaster ... or Dizzy for short.  That seems to fit, too (hey, at least something fits!).

I look in the mirror and see nothing but the weight that I've gained.  I get dressed (on average 2-3 times each morning until I find the least repulsive end result), and feel only how much tighter the clothes are (if they get on at all).  I look at pictures from when I was thinner, or at clothes that used to fit, and remember what it felt like to be happy with myself, to be comfortable in my own skin ... pretty much the opposite of how I feel now.

So I get depressed, and my excuses only make me more upset.  It's not fair, I tell myself.  If I were doing nothing but sitting on the couch eating junk all day, then at least there would be an understandable reason for me to be this big.  I've been there & done that before.  It was not fun, but it was all me.  But that's not what's happening now.  It's this medical crap.  I "splurge" on a whole wheat pizza with spinach, broccoli & tomato when I want to eat out, and my most frequent snacks are nuts or veggies with hummus.  And the scale continues to go up.  That's not fair.  That's not me.

And that's the point I'm trying to get to sink in right now.  That's not me.  Whether from food or metabolism, exercise or medication, my weight is what it is.  It's a lot more than I'd like it to be, and that sucks.  But that's not the point.  The point is ... for better or for worse, in sickness and in health ...

My size does not determine my identity.
My weight does not determine my worth.

I am not my weight.  I am not my clothes, either by size or by brand name.  I am not my illnesses.  I am not my medications.  I am not my exhaustion.  I am not my pain.  I am not my weakness.

Or if you (I) must judge me, judge me by what matters.  

My weight may fluctuate, and my illnesses may flare and fade.  I struggle, and somehow find the strength to pull through.  But these things do not define me; only I can do that.  I know who I am.  I am the Buttahfly.

**If you like what you read, tell a friend.  In fact, tell me too - post a comment below.  If you don't like it ... well ... I'm all for honesty, but please be gentle!