And then I wasn’t.
As I sorted through the clothing, there was little joy in it. Rather there was anger, shame, confusion, mourning, doubt and an avalanche of fear.
Anger for all the things that have happened to me over the years that caused me to use food as therapy. Anger for the people, places and things that make me want to numb myself with food. Anger at myself for, in some ways, letting those people and things win and own a piece of my soul.
Shame that rather than resolving my issues I allowed myself to take the easy way out and eat myself into XXL shirts, size 24 pant and size 11 underwear.
Confusion because I still struggle to identify with this new and ever shrinking body. A body that at times feels so foreign to me that I have to fight the urge to reject it with every fiber of my being. Its mentally and physically exhausting to make peace with what I was and who I am becoming. And for as much as I value and want what I am working towards, it is a place of raw and exposed nerves. I often long for the comfort and shelter that old, overweight me provided.
Mourning the lies I used to live with. Mourning the passing of the days in which I could tell myself I’d change tomorrow or the next day or the next. Eulogizing my self destruction and the devil on my shoulder that pushes me down. Grieving the loss of the warm comfort that washes over you once you resign yourself to defeat and accept your loss.
Doubt is the voice in my head telling me I will need these things again one day.
Fear that I will fail. Not just at keeping the weight off but my ability to not transfer old behaviors into new problems and creating a bad example for Izzy. I fear will let my food addiction continue to manifest itself in other areas of my life. As I struggle with acceptance of my new life, I have to take stock of my habits on a daily basis. I have noticed an increase in my negative ADD behaviors. With that comes an increase of my (usually mild) OCD tendencies. Fear of the uphill battle ahead of me long after the pounds have been shed. Eliminating these items from my life is a very final and scary indicator that the me of the past is gone. But one slip could create an onslaught of poor choices. Then where will I be? Fat, naked and exposed.
I’ve been holding on to these clothes for years. Piles of jeans and shirts in various sizes that no longer fit at various stages of my life. What was I keeping them for? The contents of these boxes are relics of a life gone by. They are the belongings of a dead person long overdue to be buried and largely forgotten. They are useless and taking up space.
Much like all my reasons and excuses for holding onto the feelings associated with them.
One by one, box by box, I will free myself from the relics of a life no longer lived. I will release these things into the world and start anew. The pain of the past will not win. I will reclaim my soul and be at peace with who I am becoming.
Month Seven: -7.5 lbs
Month Eight: -5 lbs
Month Nine: -2 lbs
Month Ten: -5 lbs
Month Eleven: -6 lbs
Week forty seven: -1
Current weight: 163 lbs
Distance from goal: 23 lbs!!