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weight loss & poetry

April 3, 2013

Well, hello!

This is an exciting moment–I have the urge to write on this blog with zero feelings of “should,” of pressure. I guess this is an extension of where I am right now with my self-care…. I’m finally in a good place. I’ve finally gotten my momentum back. I’m finally kicking booty.

NOW the challenge is patience. Oh, patience, you always show me how much I still have to learn. Patience is one of the key elements I’m attempting to cultivate in my poetry–to stay with an image longer, allowing it to blossom and live its full life before I decide to pin it down. And so it is with weight loss. It’s easy to get inspired; it’s hard to sustain. When I manage to do it, though, the internal experience is like that of writing a poem–it’s all about riding the wave, extending the clarity of vision.

I’m in week four of my amped-up routine, and I’m determined to keep pushing as hard as I can until two weeks before my wedding. I feel solid, strong. I feel a sense of purpose and excitement, and I’m curious to see where this takes me. I’m realizing how much easier it is to really go for it than to grapple in that in-between space that I was stuck in for so long.

The weekend before I recommitted to this aspect of my life, I went on a solo getaway to Stinson Beach for a few days. I needed to clear my head and think about all of the changes ahead (graduation, marriage, etc.). Something just needed shifting, and I spent the weekend writing and walking the shore. I relaxed, I had some insights, but I didn’t have that huge moment of internal shifting that I kept waiting for. So, I drove home that last day feeling content, marveling at the beauty of the earth, all of that.

It wasn’t until I got home to Sam that the shift happened: I looked at him and I said, “I don’t think I can do it.” I wasn’t talking about getting married or launching my new career; I was talking about losing this weight. I cried then, a deep, grieving cry. Then I told him I could do it if I was sure I wanted it. That uncertainty has been weighing me down (sorry for the pun) this whole time, maybe my whole life.

When I was a kid, I was told to want it. I was told that my body was wrong and that I should want to fix it so that I could be healthy and desirable. Of course, as a little kid, I didn’t care about being desirable, and I felt healthy enough (aside from my bum knee). I didn’t understand the urgency. So, I never had that moment of deciding THIS IS WHAT I WANT. And then, of course, I got older and the issue was complicated by the pressures of society and all of that. You know the story. I lost my own voice in that sea of external pressures and good-intentions. I tried to get it back though this blog, and in moments it rang through, but I think I may have skipped this step of deciding that this is 100% what I want. It was a working assumption, unconfirmed.

After the flood gates opened that day with Sam after my trip, I had the space to wonder: if I don’t want this, why does it hurt so much to think that I can’t do it? Why the deep grief over feeling stuck and powerless about something I don’t want?

I do want it. So much. I just want it on my own terms.

Luckily, the people in my life right now are good at giving me space surrounding this issue. I’m still fragile–the slightest external pressure will drown out my own desire. Or maybe not. Maybe I just fear that it will since it has done so before, but maybe I don’t have to let that happen. Either way, it’s nice (more than nice) to have the space to grow in this way. Even if I don’t end up looking exactly the way I want to at my wedding, I will still feel worlds better. I already do.

❤ Diana Banana

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