The art of fear

I discovered much about myself on this journey of losing weight.  One of the strangest was realizing how scared I was to loose weight.  It should be exciting.  Maybe overwhelming, maybe intimidating.  But I am not only talking about the process, I am talking about being afraid of actually being at my current weight.

I began this journey as part of a Biggest Loser contest at the gym we had newly joined.  I won one of the months and received some personal training sessions as part of the prize.  Our first session included an overall discussion of where I was and my goals.  I told her my goal was loosing 60 lbs.  (I was 40 lbs down at that point.)  After all, 60 lbs. would make me the lowest I had been since college, and I had gritted my teeth just to hold on the that number.  She looked at me and said, "You realize that that is still 25 lbs above the healthy range for your height, right?" 

Shocked at her boldness, I stammered, "Uh, yeah, but I just want to be realistic... I've had three kids... 60 lbs. would be a big difference to me and my health... I think I need to hit that and maintain for a while just to get a feel for how that works."

She stared at me a minute with an amused grin on her face, and replied quite matter-of-factly, "No, I see no reason to stop short of a healthy goal.  Your goal should be to loose about 80-85 lbs."  She jotted it down on her note pad and then moved on, as if she had not just dropped a bombshell on me.  When I got in the car I cried.  I didn't just cry, I sobbed.

I pulled myself together and went home to tell my husband about this absurd idea the trainer had.  He looked at me, without the grin, and said, "I agree.  Why would you stop short?  I know you can do it."  I cried off and on for the next two days.

So why all the emotion?  Why be so conflicted about another 20-25 lbs?  I think it boils down to several things...

Fear of hard work... Plain and simple, I knew that meant real changes.  Not just making sure I get out for a good walk now and then, but intentional, regular work outs.  I tend to lean toward laziness when given the opportunity.  I had always known it in the back of my mind, but had been unwilling to admit it to myself, much less to other people.  I was going to have to admit to my laziness and give it up.  As long as I am admitting unpleasant things, lets add gluttony to this point.  I knew this meant giving up eating what I want, just because I want to.  It means choosing the grilled chicken and rice when you want to order the Fettuccine Alfredo.  (Let me take this opportunity to let you know there are some amazing grilled chicken dishes out there!  Biaggi's and Olive Garden get my enthusiastic thumbs up.)  I had to admit to myself I had been a glutton and give it up.

Fear of failure...  I did not believe in myself.  I did not think I could do it.  I didn't think I could maintain it.  (There is a part of me still struggling with that.)  My trainer believed in me.  My husband believed in me.  I did not want to disappoint them.  Moreover, I didn't want to disappoint myself or appear foolish when I failed.  I realized I had given up on myself and needed to find a way to believe in myself again.  Still working on it, but it is coming.

OK, here is the big one:

Fear of discovering who I am... This was the toughie.  As a teen I was outgoing and friendly.  Over the years I have become timid, afraid and shy.  (My heart is palpitating and my stomach clenching as I admit this.  I am also tearing up, which is how I know I hit the nail on the head.)  What happened to me?  I think life.  You feel rejected and you close off a little bit of yourself.  You fail and you protect yourself a little more.  You get hurt and decide not to open that part of yourself again.  Slowly, over time I have built a wall of protection around myself. (**Disclaimer**Don't get me wrong, I don't buy in to the TV show hype about "here is why I am fat and who I can blame."  I was fat because I chose to live a life of laziness and gluttony.  I am no longer fat because I admitted that, repented of those sins, and God has helped me change.) 

Loosing all of the weight meant revealing the girl who doesn't want to be exposed and vulnerable.  Without the weight I have lost all of my excuses.  It is easy not to join in to the church softball game when you are fat.  No one really expects you to.  Now, I have to admit, I was good at softball once.  I let that skill whither over time.  Why don't I want to play?  Fear of not being good enough, being laughed at?  I used to love performing in front of people.  Many of you don't know that once upon a time I wanted to be an actress.  Why didn't I?  My excuse has been that I was overweight and didn't want to be seen in front of that many people.  Too embarrassing.  I even have a hard time speaking up in front of a group of friends.  What's my excuse now?  I might just have to admit I fear being rejected a little too much.  I also have a hard time opening up to people and getting really close to them.  I don't share too much of myself too often.  If I get too close I might get hurt.  I found it much easier to be a wallflower when I was fat.  Now I find myself with more confidence, little by little becoming more of the outgoing person I used to be.  Along with that comes the chance of being hurt.  Really scary stuff for me.

I don't think I knew at the time why I was so upset over the thought of truly not being fat.  All I knew was that the thought of losing that much made me feel really scared and vulnerable.  The closer I got the less scary it has been.  I realized I just really didn't want to play softball anymore and that's OK.  I have realized I still really do want to perform for people and it is still way too scary.  That's OK too.  I'll work on it and maybe someday I'll get there.  I have a group of friends that leave me no choice but to fully invest.  I love them dearly and am working hard to be open with them about what's going on in my life.  So far it is well worth the vulnerability that comes with it. 

And while I'm at it, why not?  How about I write down deepest thoughts on a blog so that friends and practical strangers alike can read them?  The fat me is screaming, "But what if you gain it all back?  It will be so humiliating!  What if what you have to say is meaningless?  People will think you're foolish."  But a new voice inside is quietly encouraging me, whispering, "What if you don't gain it back?  What if you become the confident woman God means for you to become.  What if what you have to say is just for you?  Better yet, what if it does mean something to someone else and it is the spark of change in their life?"  So there it is, my fears all laid out on the page.  Some days they seem less frightening, some days more.  I guarantee you I will double think posting this on more that one occasion, so for the sake of my new found boldness, here I go before I change my mind...Publish!