Loathing and Resentment

Day 343

Yesterday, my friend Clara asked a really good question after my post.

Question: “What hurt so much that it was easier to hide in a bag of chips than it was to keep working out?”

Answer: Self Loathing and Resentment

But, it didn’t start out as that. At first I just missed a workout here and there. Then, it was a weekend of eating whatever I wanted. Then, it was guilt over doing those things and then continuing to do them. I felt guilty and hated myself for it. I began to resent the fact that everyone around me seems to be able to eat or drink whatever they want and never gain an ounce or exercise. If I so much as even look at a shortbread cookie, I can feel my ass expanding.

Add to that a tremendous amount of work stress. Then, a couple of friends had babies and I found out another friend was pregnant. Of course I was happy for them. But, it made me sad for myself as it was just a reminder of what I can’t have.

For the most part, I’ve put the whole baby thing behind me. But, every now and again, it creeps up and makes me feel less than I really am. Logically, I know this is not the case. I have a great life filled with friends and family who love, cherish and support me. But, even so, I still grieve from time to time. Not because of what I “don’t” have, but because I feel that I was robbed of a “choice” in the matter. At 43, I could adopt. But, do I really want to be 65 when my kid graduates from college? No.

Do I wish that I had started down the fertility path at 35 instead of 38? Yes.
Do I regret all of those years I spent thinking “it will eventually happen. Just let nature take its course.” Hell Yes.
Do I wish that I had listened to my friend Mark Oldham years ago when he said “I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize it’s too late?” Yes.
Do I regret past decisions that may have had a direct impact on my fertility? Yes.
Can I change any of this? No.

See… I’ve got the logic part down. It’s the grieving that I haven’t quite let go of yet. I’m tearing up just reading the words. But, don’t feel sorry for me. That is the last thing I need or want. I’m getting there. It just takes time.

Ultimately, It’s the mechanisms that I choose to help me deal with stress, pain, grief, happiness, anger, etc that are the problem. The problems themselves are not really the problem at all. Everyone faces challenges, obstacles, heartache, anger, happiness and pain. It’s about how we choose to deal our problems that really matters. You see, I’m quite good in a crisis – as long as it’s someone else’s crisis. If I see a problem that needs solving or a person who needs a shoulder or a helping hand, I’m the first one to jump up and say “what can I do?” If you need an advocate, I’m your girl. I’m a champion of the underdog.

Why is it that I have no problem waking up at 6 am in the morning to cook for my work place Thanksgiving meal (because I don’t want to let anyone down.) But, I can’t manage to get up at 6 am everyday to exercise for myself? I seem to have no problem breaking commitments to myself. Does that mean that deep down I don’t feel worthy?

As long as I’m fighting for someone other than myself, I’m like Wonder Woman, Yoda and The Rock all rolled up into one sassy package. But, when it comes to my own issues, this is not the case. I don’t talk about my problems. In fact, I’d almost always rather hear about yours than tell you about mine. I keep them in for as long as possible. If something is physically wrong, I would rather suffer than go to the doctor. I procrastinated a month over getting a flippin flu shot. When it comes to those deeper feelings of inadequacy, grief, resentment, or anger, I choose to eat those feelings. Literally eat them. I have caught myself eating to fill an empty space and unable to stop until it doesn’t feel empty anymore. These episodes are far less frequent than they used to be. But, I have to admit that this has happened a couple of times in the last two months. Junk food has been a faithful friend. It doesn’t judge me. It doesn’t criticize me. It smells good. It tastes good. It makes me feel good. But, what it’s really doing behind the scenes is silently kill me. Sometimes I think this must be what it feels like to be a drug addict or an alcoholic. The only problem is you can’t quit food cold turkey. Unless, of course, dying is an option, which it isn’t!

But, back to my point, a few missed workouts and a few weekends of culinary hedonism slowly became my everyday and not my exception. Pretty soon my work stress was getting so bad that insomnia crept back into my life. I would wake up exhausted and go to bed miserable and unable to think about the days failures. Since I’ve never been one to work out in the morning, it was no big deal for me to tell myself that “I’ll just go after work”. Yeah Right! By the time “after work” rolled around, all I could think about was getting home, putting on my pajamas and filling up on carbs while I watched DVR episodes of the Young and the Restless until my husband got home from his workout. (Ironically, I inspired him and then I fell apart.) The old familiar and comfortable habits were right there to comfort me just like they had always been.

But, yesterday, I took two steps in the right direction. I joined the new Weight Watchers program which calculates points based on fat, carbs, protein and fiber now instead of calories, fat and fiber. Whole foods generally are worth far fewer points. And, I dragged my lazy ass back to the gym. It was no easy feat either. I found a million reasons not to go. But, I kept driving. Once I got on the elliptical machine, I thought “there is no way I can make it 30 minutes.” I gave myself permission to re-evaluate at 20 minutes. By the time I got to 20, I knew that I could go 10 more and I did. But, oh how the mighty have fallen. I had to take the incline and resistance way down compared to my norm. Really? What did I expect after such a long break from activity? I don’t know what I expected, but what I got was De-conditioned and 10 lbs heavier. That is the reality of today.

I have a long way to go to get back on track. I hope you stay with me while I do it. I’m in food and exercise “rehab”. I appreciate so much the support you all have shown me. It pains me to know that I’ve let myself and all of you down. But, I’m no quitter.


Cheers!
Margaret