Recently, I wrote about my proverbial “gong moments”, those dalliances with clarity that hit at the damnedest times and invariably shake me to the core. I love these moments. Whenever “The Gong of Awareness” goes off in my head, these become seminal moments which are almost always life affirming, but they can also be life altering.
I’ve had a few gong moments recently. I’ve also had a few pertinent clicks. For me, these stem from two different genuses. A gong moment usually centers around something personal and psycho-social. For example: love, my lack of it and why, accepting change, changing acceptance…those kinds of things.
When something clicks for me, I realize something about myself physically. I don’t know why they’re different but for me they are, but they’re similar in that I can actually feel the change they incur and once I feel it, ingest and process it, it becomes part of my reality and therefore, unflappable. I’m very myopic that way.
Recently, I had a click with regard to my weight, which I am ashamed to say, had become a problem in the past ten years, due in part to a HORRIFIC relationship with a souless man, one bout with deception that involved someone equally inhuman, several stints of unemployment, being broke and destitute, having the self-esteem of a mollusk that had been shucked over AND an overt love of Coke (as in a-Cola) and carbs. I got tired of my bed being so crowded every night; I battled for the covers with all those things that frightened me. And they were always more present and always louder in the darkness of late hours.
And to make matters worse, I was also lazy. Gaining weight was tributary that fed my laziness. And vice versa.
So I spent a decade feeding my fears only to emerge as the reigning Queen of Cortisol. This gross, gelatinous subcutaneous expanse became a most unwelcome squatter that settled around my tummy and mid-section then sent word to all its friends and relatives to move to the same “Promise Land”. There was also fertile ‘ass land’ that was up for grabs.
I was like this short, squatty 19th century Oklahoma with blond hair (OK, that might seem an odd thing to say but there are History majors reading this who are laughing their sphincters to the point of prolapse).
I’ve made several attempts to lose tonnage before after I had what I’ll call ‘snaps’, which are baby clicks that came on strong but had no staying power. The big click for me, the one that resonated and spurred me on to action came from a lowly ER physician.
I had broken my shoulder in a car accident 20 years ago and because of other, more serious injuries, my White Coats discovered weeks later that my right shoulder had been broken and was already in the process of healing AND healing all wrong, might I add. It’s been my intention to have surgery on it to fix it because it hurts terribly, but well, after all the corrective surgeries I’ve had, I just didn’t want to endure another one.
Fast forward to late December 2010. I’m putting on my bra one morning, I hear a snap and feel a searing pain–I cracked my shoulder. It hurts, I cry plaintively…my running mascara practically drives me to an emergency clinic where I’m examined by Dr. Insert Name Here who said my right shoulder appeared to be swollen though it was hard to tell since I was “so chunky”.
Chunky….an adjective used to describe peanut butter, various ice cream flavors and one nasty tasting candy bar infected with raisins.
That’s when it hit me.
CHANGING MY FATTITUDE
It hit me that I was going to be 52 in a few months and I was fat…overweight….portly….jolly….chunky. And nothing in my life was going to change unless I changed my life.
So, I went on a self-improvement binder and not just going through the motions, I altered my belief system. And that made ALL the difference. At the risk of getting all Wayne Dyer and Marianne Williamson on you, My thoughts became my actions. Armed with this, I then made every attempt to separate my emotional wheat from my cognitive chaff and part of that included a permanent separation of adipose from my body.
This weight supplied better defense than NATO. It was a wonderful buffer between me and all of life’s perceived complications, you know those horrible things we run from: love and relationships, happiness, fulfillment and feeling good and positive about oneself.. Yes, sometimes, we run from good things. Silly, but for the emotionally fragmented, happiness is a lovely concept only. For it to be real would take a lotta work.
And I’ll share something else with you; something I’ve always heard, but only recently learned: once you make a real attempt to straighten up your life, you open yourself up to opportunities. And they literally come out of the woodwork. I don’t know why there’s a correlation but there is. Maybe it’s more mind control and manifestation that even I’m aware. Then again, perhaps it’s finally just realizing that your life isn’t working and once that happens, it’s easier to squelch the inner demons, relinquish some aspects of control, you finally learn to surrender to a power bigger than yourself and of course, you learn to curse the French for inventing the word “sabotage”. Then you teach yourself to praise the language that was/is Middle English for deriving the word, “healing”.
There’s a tremendous amount of personal responsibility involved with these “clicks” and allowing them to adhere. I say that because change is indeed a conscious decision. And part of that involves understanding the duopoly that’s at work here: the chubby person on the outside and the one that reigns supreme in your head. A fat minded person can spend 20K on a gastric bypass and an extra 10K on lipo to jump-start the process, BUT….if he or she is still fat minded, it won’t matter one damn bit what happens on the outside. Getting sucked, tucked…folded…whatever, it won’t matter. Until that drastic click is heard, felt, FULLY BELIEVED, then acted upon, the fat will return. It’s an age-old story….
But one that for me, has mercifully, thankfully ended.
I’ve lost 31 pounds in 35 days.
I won’t bore you with details, but I’m under a doctor’s care and I’ve learned so many things. I look at food so differently now and the resulting transformation is as much internal as external. I can now see the error of my ways and the behaviors and motivations that lead me down a path of self-destruction. I know the difference between feeling hungry and feeling empty. I know now that a pizza isn’t sanctuary, and stretch pants with an elastic waistband only rewards self-destructive behavior. I have deduced that my weight is not a trade-off that makes tolerable all those feelings of sadness, failure, disappointment or loss. It only exacerbates those feelings which become comfortably habitual after a while.
I have changed.
And that has helped make me living proof of the immortal, Victor Frankl’s adage:
When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves
Really, what other choice did I have. And that begs the question, what other choice do you have?
In closing, I absolutely LOVE saying that soon, you’ll be seeing far less of me. Proof of that in the form of “Before and After photos” are forthcoming.
Here’s to clicking, ya’ll. I’d toast it and you with champagne, but it ain’t on my diet.