Over the last six years, I have gained 50 pounds. I felt awful, but instead of doing something about it I became overwhelmed. I was depressed and sluggish and soon my thoughts about my body became obsessive. It didn't matter what I was doing, somehow I would find a way to relate my weight to it. While getting ready in the morning, I would look at myself and think about how much I let myself go. On the way to social gatherings, I would think about how much I weighed and wonder if people there were going to judge me. While watching tv, I would look at what people were wearing and wish that I could wear cute clothes too. God forbid my husband accidentally walk in our bedroom while I was changing because I would bite his head off. I realized that these obsessive thoughts where not only unhealthy, but they were also taking over my life. I knew I had to do something about it, but what? How? Can I?
During this psychological storm, my 10-year-old son was diagnosed with congenital heart disease. To make a long story short, he had open-heart surgery and life got complicated. He came home in oxygen and partially blind due to a complication during surgery. I was spending 30-50 hours a week taking him to different specialists, and I reached an all time high for stress. Often I was alone because my husband is in the Army and was deployed before and after the surgery. I was lonely, afraid and I had a hair trigger with people. I felt like a monster inside, and I couldn't stand it anymore. Setting losing weight aside, I decided it was time to take care of myself both physically AND emotionally. I wanted to be a better mother for my children, and I also wanted to be a better example. I had to do something, so finally I did. I started taking care of myself emotionally, and the physical portion naturally followed.
Watching my son struggle to recover from surgery really made me think. This poor sweet boy is just a child, and he had no choice in what happened to him. I began to wonder, why would anyone in the world do that to their body on purpose? Knowing that his whole life he had been struggling with every physical activity that he did made me realize I myself had no excuse. Before surgery, he played sports. He was always the slowest kid in track, but he never quit running. He struggled to gain any weight, so he always wrestled kids heavier than he was. He hiked difficult trails with us as a family, but he always finished. Knowing his tenacity was what all the fuel he had since his body failed him will forever be in the back of my mind when things feel like they are getting too hard.
Flash forward, and I have since lost 23 pounds since January 20th, and I exercise regularly. I got more serious and started seeing a trainer a month ago. Since May 23rd, I have lost 6% body fat, and I am amazed that I did that. My husband is deployed again, but instead of being lonely, I take both of my children with me for a run. Not only is it a great way to spend time together, it also keeps me honest. How can I quit running when I have made a commitment to them? I feel like a different woman and being fit isn't something I want or wish for anymore because it isn't a fantasy. This is real, and I am really doing it.