Definition by numbers, No more. Hidden by numbers, no more.

As I sit down to write this, I have to tell you...I don't want to.  I don't want to be open and honest about all that is going on in my head.  I don't want to know someone will read this and judge me or mock me or simply not understand where I am coming from. I don't want to look at it myself. 

I'm on a journey.  One I haven't been all out in the open about.  It's one I need to take the most.  But the one I don't want to do and think that I can't do.  But as I do it, I'm learning can't/want/need are all just words in my brain, not indications of success or failure.

My journey is one of health and wellness and weight.  Can't leave that last little jewel out.  Weight.  When I say that word it makes me cringe.  Seriously, my eyes squint and my lips turn downward and my face just scrunches up on itself.  I want to say something here.  And I say it for myself more than anyone else, but I hope it helps you too.  My weight does not define me.  My weight is, at the most basic, how much my body weighs.  Not who I am.  Can it describe me?  Sure, but it does not DEFINE me.  And I am learning, I have let it define me too long, and for me personally, I have let it define me intentionally. 

I'm a food addict.  I turn to it in happiness, sadness, worthlessness, apathy, anger and so on.  On this journey, I am not only changing my eating, but I am attacking, yes, attacking my emotional and mental health as well.  I've never been a skinny person, but I was never fat either until about 8 years ago.  We'll come back to this momentarily.

As I have been losing weight and digging deeper into my physche about food, I've been using a book called 'Made to Crave.'  It is a book by a Christian author, but for my "not-yet-believing" friends, if you feel like you can relate to this blog in anyway, I suggest checking it out.  It's been eye opening to me.  The first 2 chapters made me realize I would be digging deeper and dealing with hurts that I have been stuffing down for so long, what I've actually been doing is burying them under fat.  Quite literally.  Layers and layers of subcutaneous fat.

This blog could be like heaven for a psychologist, oh what gems they could learn about me.  And let's say, I am not unaware of them.  Let's deal with my core issue here.  I feel unworthy. 

Yes, unworthy. 

I feel unworthy of the good things in life.  Health, wealth, happiness.  But I crave them.  I know that all core issues have roots.  Mine started rooting as a child when my dad left.  I can't remember anything, but I am sure that I thought "what did I do?"  "Why am I not enough?" "If I had just been _____ enough"  (fill in the blank) 

But I was lucky.  Even having had these thoughts, I had a family that was amazing and I knew without a doubt that they loved me.  But there is a void that is left, no matter how small.  That void has a voice that is easily activated. 

So we'll fast forward through some stuff, readers digest version: developing earlier than all the other girls, it made me curvy, not fat.  I didn't know the difference.  Never having a serious boyfriend when I was younger led me to think I wasn't attractive, that something was wrong with me, physically.  Which led me to a cycle of using my body in ways that were not kind to myself and never led to love.  Which is what I as craving.  Fell in love (twice) with great guys who were incredible friends to me, but again no romantic relationship...so again, what is it that I am missing?  What am I missing?  A question that chased me up until my husband.  And yet, even he deals with my baggage- which is a different blog entirely.  So, we'll stay on point.  Joined the Army!  Hooah!  I belonged.  I loved my time in the Army.  I love my fellow soldiers, I love my country.  I love the identity it gave me.  Married Jase (hooray!)  Got pregnant, got out of the Army.  And then, 8 years ago, became a mom. 

Remember how I said we'd get back to 8 years ago?  Well, we're there.  As I have been attacking my emotional issues with food, I believe this is the root.  No, not becoming a mom.  But becoming one so tragically.  I was never the type who wanted to grow up, get married and have kids right away.  I wanted to go and see and be!  And I did.  And then I wanted to be a mom, but there was time for that.  And then, I missed my period.  Ready or not, here motherhood comes. 

Then the news: Twins!  Holy cow.  What on earth do I know about being a mom?  And yet there was this bond, this incredible bond between my unborn children and I.  Oh the dreams I had for them.  The expectations of being a mom, having healthy, happy babies.  Well, that wasn't to be my story. 

Ava and Sophia, sweet little babes.  They were in hurry, much like their mama usually is and came too soon.  Ava survived and Sophia did not.  Grieving for one, while desperately praying and willing one to survive is a dance I was terribly poor at...

Ava came home.  I was ecstatic.  And yet, I started gaining weight and more and more and more.  60 pounds on my body, in less than 3 months.  Depression, I'm sure was the culprit. 

But the real culprit?  My own unkind thoughts to myself.  What my food issues really come down to is that I feel I don't deserve it.  I don't deserve health and wellness.  Why?  In my own warped way, my mind decided that I failed at  the ONE thing I was created for, physically.  I failed at having a baby.  Now, I know that some people will start scoffing here or being offended and I don't intend it, this is just how I know I feel.  God made me to have babies and I failed at it.  Yes, I know I have four children.  And I know I am blessed.  I also know that I have to work at getting myself to a point where I know what happened wasn't my fault, in my head I believe this.  In my heart, I blame myself.  But the truth, the ugly, vulnerable, brutal truth is that I believe I failed Sophia.  And it cost her life.  That's something I can never change. 

Logically, I know that there was nothing I could do.  I didn't cause it, or wish for it or make it occur in any way.  But my body betrayed me and it betrayed her.  And for 8 years, I've been punishing it and myself. 

That hurts me to say.  I sit here crying and I hate knowing that.  I've been denied the pleasure of her and my mind didn't think that was enough, so I've been punishing my body too.  I don't know where to go from here with that.  I just know it IS.  I have given over my hurt to God and to you, my friends and the healing will come from there. 

I choose to believe each time I am kind to myself, make good choices for myself that I make Sophia proud.  And not just her, but my living blessings.  Ava, Tessa, Elijah and Levi deserve a happy, healthy mom.  One who shows them hard things can be done, hard choices can be made, happiness deserved.  For all of us. 

Each pound has it's own story.  Each person has their own story.  I can no longer hide behind the fat that I have used to punish and protect me.  I am not a number.  I'm a girl who has finally decided to take over her thoughts and actions and prove that I am worth it.  We all are.