But now to the real saboteur, my brain. I won't bore you with the details, particularly since the focus of this blog is neither food, nor exercise, nor weight loss. Let's just say that sometime between second and third grade I chunked up and my weight has been an issue ever since. In the past ten years, the only thing that has helped me stay at a healthy weight has been avoiding all refined carbohydrates. When I try to eat them in moderation (or not), whether exercising (or not), I get fat, mostly because the moderation never lasts long and I overeat them. Since the holidays, I've been eating them with abandon and not exercising. Surprise, surprise, I'm at my top weight. Again.
Sigh.
Once again I am going through the torturous process of breaking sugar's hold on me and my brain is.not.helping. Instead of sending me supportive messages like, "You hate being this large! Please do not eat that!" it is sending me messages like, "See that leftover Easter candy? It will taste soooo good. It will send away all of the sad feelings about shootings and death and the bad news about your relative with cancer. Eeeeeaaaat it. Doooooo it."
I am happy to say that I did not succumb to the temptation Friday, yesterday, or (so far) today--no thanks to my brain.
People in my life with strong spiritual sides remind me to pray for help with this. They say if I keep my connection with God strong, it will be easier to eat the foods my body needs and to shun those it doesn't. As I mentioned a few days ago, it is very easy to pray for those with real needs (the injured police officers, Chief Maloney's family, my ill family member). It's much harder to remember to ask for help for myself.
Do I think God really cares about what I eat? Well. . .not exactly. I do think God wants me to be the best person I can be and to use my talents to the best of my ability. When I'm obese and achy and tired and lack stamina, my usefulness in this world is limited. When I pray about my food issues, it's not about expecting God to send a lightening bolt from the sky--POW!--to knock the cupcake from my hand. Instead, it's about centering myself, spiritually, and viewing myself as the miracle I am (because we're all miracles, right? Even if we, as humans, are very good at messing up ourselves, we are born with potential and the fact that we're alive and interacting on this 3rd planet from the sun is pretty darn amazing).
Let's say you had a Ming vase, or a 1957 Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa. Would you leave the vase on a table in your child's playroom where, at best it would be smeared with peanut butter and jelly and at worse knocked to the floor and shattered? Would you leave the Ferrari parked in front of your house in Northeast, USA, for the elements to assail and where any rocks kicked up by passing cars would ding and scratch the body? Why do we place our own bodies (and the talents we posses) below objects? Why do we take better care of such things as antique vases and classic cars--expensive, yes, but surly not as priceless as our lives?
No Johnny! Don't touch th---
I'll go get the broom.
I'll go get the broom.
When I pray, I open myself to God's reminder that I am as worthy of care as a Ming vase or classic Ferrari. When I'm reminded of this, it's much easier to tell my sabotaging brain to shut it. I can walk away from the package of cookies, brew a cup of decaf coffee, and come here to blog. (True story.)
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