Breaking Up...

...with my scale

My scale and I have a very long-standing love-hate relationship. I have "broken up" with my scale numerous times over the years just to have it lull me back with visions of perfect  numbers dancing across the display. The scale has the potential to tear me down every single time I step onto it. And yet, I continue to do so.

Every morning the scale waits for me. I try to talk myself out of partaking in the ritual that has plagued me since I bought my very first set of scales. But alas, I succumb. I stip down to nothing, timidly step upon this contraption that shall determine the rest of my day, and wait. I watch the blinking display while trying to maintain a "healthy" attitude. I tell myself that regardless of what this number is I'll be fine. I'm ok. I tell myself that I am beyond the reaches of the scales horrors. I NEED to know this number ... for my health, of course. And so I wait. And every day, regardless of what the number is, I feel defeated. I feel weak. I feel like I've failed.
Now that I'm "recovered" the failure I feel isn't that the number hasn't gone down, but rather that I still give so much of my self worth to something so meaningless. That I still allow myself to step on the scale each day when I know it will only tear me down. I want to throw the scale away, I really do, but am I ready? Am I ready to give up something that was such a huge part of my life for so long? My scale is like an old friend, no matter how demeaning. A part of me is still hoping for the day that I reach my magic number, like I'll finally be able to be proud of myself. But aren't I already proud of myself? Haven't I come farther than I ever imagined I would? Haven't I proven myself to be a strong, beautiful girl already? Why do I put so much of my self worth into a single number? Why am I so afraid to let go? The answer is: I don't know. What I do know is that every single time I have ever "broken up" with my scale I feel absolutely amazing. I start to love myself just because I'm me and not because some tiny display screen told me that I'm finally worthy of love.

And so here I am. Again. Breaking up with my scale. We are all more than a number. We are all beautiful regardless of our size. We are all worthy of love - from ourselves and from others.

Fear

You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face - Eleanor Roosevelt.

The hardest thing for me during my recovery was finding myself. I had spent over ten years hiding from the world. Ten years lying to myself and everyone around me. Smiling on the outside and crying on the inside. Ten years feeling nothing but pure hatred toward myself and the body I was trapped in. Ten years doing everything I could to punish myself for just living, breathing, being. These are not things you just bounce back from. There is no way to just flip a switch and start loving yourself. It's a process, a very long, very trying process. And a major part of this process for me was trying new things. Stepping out of my comfort zone and facing my fears head on.

-I fell in love. No small task for a girl who can't even love herself. This took a great deal of trust. After all, how could anyone possibly love the unlovable? But I let him in and he's been changing my world ever since.

 -I started reading, which I'd never even thought of doing before because I was never a "smart" girl. I was terrified that if I read something that didn't make sense to me that it would be proof that I'd been right all those years. That I was a dumb girl and nothing would ever change that. So I picked up a book and read it. And being able to escape into that fantasy world turned out to be a much needed relief from real life. I loved it and can't believe that I let my fear stop me from discovering that sooner.

-I ran - in public - alone. When I was little someone (so insignificant that I can't even remember who it was) told me that I ran funny. From that moment on I refused to run in front of anyone, at all, even at the gym on a treadmill. After I had my son and realized how sedentary my life had become I got a treadmill and ran in my living room during naptime. It took all of about a week before that became too boring to continue. So one day, I laced up my sneakers, put on my brave face, and headed out into the world to run. I was very careful to only run when there were no cars driving past and there wasn't a person in sight, because I couldn't bear being seen by anyone (it was a known fact that I ran funny, afterall). Then someone turned a corner and saw me and the world didn't end right then and there. There was no laughing and pointing. They smiled, said "hi", and kept right on moving. That was when I realized that it didn't matter what I looked like, I was out there and I was getting healthy for myself and for my son. Because he deserved a mom that could play with him without having to stop and catch her breath every five seconds. A few months after that brave first run I ran my first 5K race with my son waiting for me at the finish line. And now, my son runs with me. A few months ago he begged to be let out of his stroller on one of our regular runs and he took off running for a full 1/2 mile. If I'd let fear win, he wouldn't be out there running, and I certainly wouldn't be able to keep up.

There were many more fears that have been conqured in the past few years and many more fears I have yet to even acknowledge let alone face. It's a process and the difference between the old me and the new me is that I refuse to let that fear control me. It will not stop me from doing things that I enjoy. I know that even if I fail it won't change the fact that I tried. And all you can really do in life is try.