Sunday, March 14, 2010

Laying it all out there

I am fat. I am obese. I weigh, well, I don't actually know how much I weigh, but I know it's a lot. Until recently (the last six months to a year), I knew how much I weighed, but I gained more and now my weight doesn't register on my scale.
My scale only goes up to 330 pounds. What's that? Ahem. I said 330 pounds.
Alright, you heard it; I weigh more than 330 pounds. (Do you have any idea how hard that was for me to admit??? My palms are sweaty and my heart is pounding. I feel like I have just stripped myself naked and am running around town.) And that fact disgusts me. It makes me feel like crap. I despise the fact that I am so fat. I hate that I let myself get to this point. And I really want to lay down and just cry and cry until there is nothing left anymore. Sometimes I want to just really let go completely and get really fat, get to be that 500 pound person that can't leave the house. I want to just give up and close in on myself and never have to face people, never have to face myself, never have to face my fears, never have to do anything.

But...
But I have a still, small voice that won't let me do that. That voice inside my head, inside my heart, tells me that I am worth more than that. That I am special, and beautiful, and I deserve much more than that. I just have to let go, to let that still, small voice have free reign and give up something. I have to give up control.

I have controlled what I think others think of me to such a degree that I am helpless now. I have allowed Satan to convince me that people really do see me as that fat, unlovable, unworthy, disgusting person. In some ways, I have become that person.
And it's not true. But I am letting this sin take over my life and control every aspect of it to one degree or another. And yes, I will say it, I will shout it, being fat, being obese is a SIN!!!
It is. And I have allowed it to have control. The root of it may be somewhere else, but the end result is the same. And it's wrong. I know it is. And I hate it! I want it to change.

The root of it all is tied up in my feelings of self-worth. I wish it weren't, but it is. I have never felt good enough. I know that it goes back to my parents getting divorced when I was very young. I don't even remember them being together. But it isn't their fault. That's just something that happened. I allowed Satan to tell me that if I was good enough, if I had been a better daughter, that my parents would have stayed married.
Instead, I allowed him the freedom to convince me that I was not worth much.
I was terrified of doing anything, any little thing at all that might call attention to me. I tried to blend in to the background. I remember my step-mother forcing me, literally forcing me to go up to the cashier at a fast food restaurant to ask for ketchup. I was too terrified, at 6 years old, to talk to people and ask for something that they would be glad to give me.
I was horrified if I got into trouble at school. I wanted to be the good girl, the nice girl, the one that no one worried about. The one that no one noticed much.
Then puberty hit and I got curves. And suddenly boys noticed me. And my brothers started calling me fat. And I started hiding behind my clothes. They were baggy. And loose. And then a pound of two here and there weren't noticeable. By the time I graduated from high school, I wasn't exactly fat, but I wasn't skinny. And I still mostly managed to stay unnoticed. People knew me, but no one could remember exactly how they knew me.
Around this point, my parents would mention here and there that maybe I needed to go on a diet. My step-dad once said that if I ever lost enough weight to look good in a bikini, he'd take me on a cruise.

Then the weight started creeping on me faster. And when I was 22, still single, still never having had a real boyfriend, getting a bit more than chubby, still painfully shy and awkward, I moved across the state with a friend. She worked nights and I worked days. And I sat in our apartment watching TV and eating. And eating. And eating. Before I knew it, I was 250 pounds.
I was miserable. I went to a doctor for migraines. He said I was depressed. I said it wasn't possible. And then he said it was all because I was fat. If I'd lose weight, it would all be better.
I listened. I let him put me on a diet that consisted of 500 calories a day. Guess what? I lost weight!! I knocked my metabolism completely off track, but that's a whole 'nother story.
I met Hub. We started dating. And going out to eat. And the weight crept back in. Eventually, Hub and I got married. I weighed 260 pounds. We were married a few years and I weighed 285 pounds. We started trying to have a baby. I made the mistake of telling my mother-in-law that I needed to lose weight to get my periods back on track. Not long after, my father-in-law sat me and Hub down and told us that I had to go on a diet. He said enough was enough, I had been fat long enough, now I needed to lose weight.
I wanted to knock my father-in-law out.

But all I could do was cry. And cry. And cry.

And then I got pregnant. I ate healthier during those 9 months than I had in years. And when I left the hospital after Dino was born, I weighed 17 pounds less than I had the day of my first doctor's appointment.
But by the time I got pregnant with Frog a year later, I weighed the exact same thing as I had when I first got pregnant with Dino. This time, I gained a bit more weight, and didn't lose as much. But then, I just started gaining more and more. I had a miscarriage when Frog was 17 months old, and I gained about 15 pounds in a short time. That's when I firmly stayed over 300 pounds.
When I got pregnant with Monkey, I didn't even look when I got weighed at the doctor's office. I knew how much I gained and lost. By the time I was 33 weeks pregnant, I was at even, but then I gained 20 pounds in two weeks. That was from pregnancy issues. And then Monkey was born, and I never seemed to lose too much after that. I hovered around 325 since he was born. A few pounds here and there but nothing ever stuck. And in the last year, I don't really know what happened. I can't be that much over 330 because my clothes still fit.

I think mentally I just gave up. What does it really matter?
But I hurt. Physically my knees ache, my ankles ache, all my joints ache. I have a hard time getting up and down off the floor, where the boys love to play. I have breathing problems at night. That just started when Monkey was born. I know I would qualify for a CPAP if I tried. I can't run. I get out of breath walking up stairs. I'm miserable.

But mentally, it's probably worse. I feel like dirt, like crap, like the most unworthy, unlovable, worthless human being ever.
And I know, in my head, that it's not true. I know that God loves me. He wants for me to be healthy. He wants for me to not have to feel the mental and physical pain of all this weight. And yes, He wants for me not to be in the sin of overeating. He wants me to treat the body He gave me right.

I prayed once for Him to just take away my desire for food. To just make it so that the only food that tasted good to me was healthy food. That still, small voice told me that I had to do what God wanted and then He would answer my prayer. I had to read my Bible every day and keep praying and get closer to Him.
And I never did it. Never.
Such a simple thing and I couldn't do it.

So, since January 1, I have read my Bible every single day. I have (over the years) gotten closer to Him. I am closer to Him than I have ever been in my life, but I still can't seem to give Him control of this.
I can't let go.

Yesterday, I had to go shopping. I have run out of pants. One pair had the zipper bust, so I was left with one pair of grungy jeans, and one pair of nice jeans and one pair of dress pants. I have some pajama pants, but nothing else. And it's summer, and I have only one pair of lightweight summer pants, too.
So, off to the store I went. And the first place, I tried on 6 pair of pants that are the same size as the ones I am presently wearing but not one fit. Not even remotely fit. Didn't fit as in, couldn't even get them up to my butt. Then, store number two, where I bought the nice pair of jeans I have only 6 months ago. The jeans still fit very well. And there were some of the exact same jeans, same style, same brand, same size. And they did not fit!!! I even tried on some a couple sizes bigger, a couple sizes bigger and they still did not fit. Nothing fit. Not a single pair of pants that should have fit. Sizes that I should be able to wear.

And I lost it. I almost broke down in the store crying. But I didn't. And then I knew. It may sound stupid, and I may be way off base. But I believe that God had a hand in it. I believe that pants that were the exact same brand, style and size, pants that should have fit didn't fit because God had had enough of me. He was taking me out to the woodshed and whacking me upside the head.
Enough is enough!
This is to be the turning point. No more. He is not going to allow me to do this anymore. I have to give Him the control of this part of my life, too. I cannot continue in this sin. I cannot keep doing this to my body. I cannot allow myself to keep feeling this way.
I am broken. I feel as if I can't move. This is the end of the line. Things either change or that's it.
And I want it to change.

This post is part of it. I think I finally know what I need to do as part of this blog. I have a friend who has given me the courage to share, because she wondrously opened herself up and has allowed me to see into her heart and her journey and struggle with an eating disorder. If she has the courage, so do I.
I must relinquish control over this to God. I must allow Him to have this part of my life as well.

I am broken. And only God can put the pieces back together.
Will you help? Will you help me get through this and help me give the control to Him? Pray for me. Encourage me in any way that He leads you to. Just listen to me ramble on and on like I am wont to do. Please. I can't do it alone. I mean, I could, with only God's help, but I would rather you came along and helped me, too.
Help me mend my broken heart and body.

6 comments:

Michelle said...

I'm here, friend. I'm here, I'm listening, I'm praying. I feel your pain. Truly, I do. My numbers are different but the mentality is the same.

I'm here. Not going anywhere.

Mr. and Mrs. B said...

I'm here.
Not going anywhere either.
I'm praying, without ceasing, for God to GRIP your heart and LEAD you through this journey to victory.
God Bless you in your honesty and sharing friend!!!!
((HUGS))

Terri said...

I'm here too! Standing beside you in CA - far but oh, so close! Praying, relating & feeling your pain! I love you my friend & you ARE worthy, beautiful, loved & enough!!!

Erica said...

I am almost in tears after reading your post, I can so relate to all of it.

I am struggling with the exact same thing - I don't want to give up the control that food "gives" me.

Just this past week, I am down to one pair of pants left that fit.

You CAN do this. I am here with you.

You should watch some episodes of The Biggest Loser on nbc.com. I have been watching this current season and, drama aside, it is very encouraging.

Thank you for writing this post. It is so true - once our sins are made public and we face them head on, they will be conquered.

Alison said...

Oh, sweetie, I can hear the pain in this post. I don't even know you, but if I were there right now I'd want to give you a hug and a reassuring "it's gonna be ok". You can do this, He will help!

(((hugs)))

Sailor and Co said...

Oh darling, I am SO here for you. Can you add followers to the side of your blog so that I can keep up with you? let me know. Thanks.

Ps. You are perfect in His sight. Flaws and all.