Tag: Weight issues

This Thorn

I hate talking about the thorn in my side. It’s so embarrassing. I’m sure nobody cares and certainly nobody wants to hear about it.

But as I write, if I still have your attention, try to imagine my thorn as your own thorn, because honestly, we all have one.

You know that thing that brings us to our knees. That thing we struggle with everyday. That thing that leaves us crying out to God, “Take this from me!” And yet, we feel falls on deaf ears.

Mine happens to be my weight.

I have struggled with my body image all my life. I say body image because I always thought I was fat even when I wasn’t.

I few years ago I dropped 60lbs. More than I ever have in my whole life at one time. My clothes got a lot smaller, I took up less room I noticed on my chair, and then there was everyone telling me how great I looked.

Really? When I stood in front of my bathroom mirror every morning as I was about to get into the shower, I didn’t see a difference.

I watched the number on the scale drop slowly every week. It took me a year and a half. Certainly wasn’t over night, that’s for sure.

But I felt nothing. And the mirror told me nothing.

As soon as I hit the number I arbitrarily chose I started to gain the weight back. It was easy, because again, I didn’t see any difference except what was on the scale.

So I let it go. Pound by pound until, guess what? I’m right back to where I started. More some, even.

IT’S INCREDIBLY FRUSTRATING!

It’s frustrating because I’ve done this before. This always happens. And now I have come across information that explains it and it all just seems so hopeless.

So much so that I’m ashamed to tell you this…

But I had given up.

I stopped caring. I stopped fighting. I started enjoying. I started binging. I started to get worse.

GOD, WHERE ARE YOU? WHY DO I STILL STRUGGLE WITH THIS? WHY WON’T YOU TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME?

And then, this morning I got smacked. I got God smacked.

I have a friend who is living with cancer. I have another who is living with PTSD. My step mom is laying in a hospital bed after receiving a pacemaker, just yesterday.

Are they allowed to give up?

Is it ok for them to stop fighting?

No, it’s not.

Then it’s not ok for me either.

So it leads me back to where I started. Even farther.

But I have to start, again. I have to start fighting, again. I have to start caring. I have to start leaning more on God, again.

Because it’s the thorn that brings me to my knees. It’s what I struggle with, everyday. It’s what makes me cry out to God.

Because if it didn’t, why would I ever?

God may never have any desire to take this from me. But he will continue to walk with me through it. Carrying me at times even.

Like now.

I know that he is here. So I know it’s a good place to be. It’s my journey. It’s my thorn.

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. – 2 Corinthians 12:8-10

Accepting Who I’m Designed to Be

Last week I posted something on my social media about a very striking, yet larger woman, I had seen. I commented on what she was wearing and how fabulous I thought she looked. I mentioned I really wanted to tell her how great she looked, but I knew that I wouldn’t.

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I received lots of positive feedback, encouraging me to do it, but I didn’t.

I didn’t because I really didn’t think God was trying to give her a message, as much as he was trying to give me one.

She was beautiful. She was graceful. She walked with confidence. She felt good about herself. I could see that. To say anything would be insulting.

I was envious of her. And even though she did not fit my box of what beauty should look like, she still was.

And the kicker was, she looked more like me than she did like any other beautiful woman on TV or in a magazine.

What I really wanted to tell her was, “Teach me how to be fabulous too!”

Of all the comments I received, I had one friend who knew that there was more to this encounter than meets the eye. She encouraged me to journal about it.

And I did.

Thank you Ms. Sandra; here it is.

Maybe the sin isn’t in the overeating, but in letting it stop you from being who you were design to be.

I haven’t owned this statement yet. I’m working on it.

I’ve written in an earlier post, I’m not lazy and I don’t typically over indulge. And yet, even when I restrict my diet and become more intentional about moving, I always and forever, gain all my weight back.

I can lose it. I can’t keep it off.

I could have surgery. But I don’t have the health problems that would warrant it.

Maybe, physically, I’m suppose to be exactly how I am. But I fail emotionally.

If Jesus accepts me how I am, why do I feel I need to be any different?

Why am I telling him, he’s wrong?

I know this isn’t going to change my attitude over night. I’m still going to struggle. Letting go of an ideology I’ve grown up with is not easy to let go of.

I wish I never read that book that defended I was overweight physically, and underweight spiritually. Maybe it’s not true.

Maybe it could be, for some. But maybe not for all.

I think Jesus is probably more disappointed in how I let my self-image prevent me from doing the things he’s called me to do.

I think he may be more disappointed I’ve let my weight occupy my thoughts as much as I do. Whether I am 200lbs or 130, thoughts and ideas of my weight consume me.

I have replaced my God.

They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator–who is forever praised. Amen. – Romans 1:25

Oh how I praise my Self when I have lost the weight. And oh how my Self punishes me once I put it back on. How I strive, and struggle to make my Self happy.

I worship it. I have given myself over to it. It rules me. It consumes me. It lords over me.

I keep thinking if I was smaller, things would be different. People will look at me differently. And when I say people, I mean strangers. They will respect me more. They will take notice of me more often.

Many years ago, I had seen a study (how scientific, I don’t know) that tested how people reacted to people in fat suits. It was horrible. They were ignored, they were passed over. They are shown to be in a lesser class.

This worried me. Because for some reason, I care what other people (strangers) think of me. And I “knew” I had the power to change how people look at me.

I could change it, by changing me.

But I’m starting to realize something. I’m learning that perhaps I’m not suppose to be a 130lb woman. I’m not even suppose to be a 160lb woman. Because even when I am, I’m not.

Why do I continue to strive to be someone I’m not?

Lord, please forgive me for my sins. I am sorry I have bought into the lie that my size is a reflection of who you are. I am even more sorry that I’ve aided in spreading a false message that isn’t from you, to others.

You do not condemn me for being who I am. I do that to myself.

Please wash over my thoughts and cleanse them from anything that does not come from you. Rid me of the false messages that tell me I’m not worthy; that I could be better.

Forgive me for putting my Self above you.

It would be my honor to continue serving you, while still being me; the me you’ve designed me to be.

Amen.

A Special Kind of Stupid

I’m a black and white kind of gal. If it pertains to something I care for, or am passionate about, I need to know the details.

What are the rules? Something is either right or wrong, and I need to know which.

There is no, it’s something like, or kinda, and certainly not, it doesn’t matter. EVERYTHING matters.

It’s how I am.

So when I study my Bible and I read about the Israelites escaping Egypt, to cross the wilderness so that they may enter the Promise Lands and all the hardships they overcome, I think to myself,

“Man, they must have been some special kind of stupid.”

God rescues them from their captors. He guides them as a cloud by day, and fire by night. He parts the sea for them to cross and orders the waves to crash down at just the right time, thus killing their pursuers and ending their slavery.

He provides them with food. He provides them water. He keeps them safe.

He then gives Moses all kinds of rules. Laws that explain in great detail, how they should live. What is right. What is wrong.

And he eventually brings them to the outskirts of the land he is giving them!

So I’m thinking, PERFECT! Not only had God shown them, daily, he was with them; he also provided them with the run-down of how they should act and where they will live.

So how on earth could this great group of people, not once, but continually screw this up and forget who God was, need more proof that he was with them, and for the love of Pete, question his intentions and their safety?

I just don’t get it!

Until I look at myself…

I struggle with my weight and eating healthy.

I know ALL the rules. I’ve read all the books. What to eat. What not to eat.

I’ve talked to several professionals about weight loss and exercise. I know what I’m suppose to do and why.

I have friends who are nutritional specialists and friends who are personal trainers.

Everything I need has been laid out before me. The science behind all of it is extremely black and white.

And yet, time and time again I find myself broken, exhausted, and crumbling with self-doubt, disappointment and feelings of failure at the feet of Jesus, in a big fat puddle of special kind of stupidness.

I just can’t do this. Oh, I can for a little while. But as something I must do day after day? Forever? No, I can’t.

Even with all the rules I fall short, everytime.

Why God? Why does this happen?

God sent the Israelites into the wilderness for 40 years to sanctify them. To transform them from slaves into his chosen people. They had to learn what sets them apart, by being set apart.

Maybe that’s why I’m here too. Maybe my issues with my weight are to sanctify me. I need Jesus to transform me from being a slave to sin, into being, saved by Grace.

With Grace, there are no rules. There is nothing for me to do. God sent the laws to his people to show them they cannot live by them. The laws are not what saved them; what made them right with God. No, he sent his son to save us from sin; to make us right with him.

I don’t understand Grace. It doesn’t play by the rules. It is often, something like, kind of, AND whatever.

We don’t live by the law of the Old Testament anymore. We’re not judged by it.

So when I look at me and my weight. And I try so hard to follow all the rules, I get so frustrated because I can do the rules for a little while. But eventually I always, ALWAYS fall back into my old habits and gain my weight back again. Just like the stupid Israelites.

Maybe God is trying to teach me Grace, while I’m trying to force myself to live by these ridiculously hard and impossible rules that I’ve set up for myself. When Jesus is right here telling me, “Kim, what are you doing? Who are you doing this for? I love you just the way you are.”

Knowing that God sent Jesus because we can’t live by rules, and we can’t save ourselves, brings me some kind of relief.

What kind, I don’t know, but I feel relief from something.

Regardless of my weight, I am not lazy, I am not a pig, and I am not a failure. And the Israelites were not stupid.

We are all in need of a savior. And God says, his Grace is enough (2 Corinthians 12:9). So this is what I will try daily, to understand. And I will accept it, even if I don’t ‘get’ it.

Great is his faithfulness;
    his mercies begin afresh each morning. – Lamentations 3:23

Praise God for THAT!

That Little Girl

I recently finished a six week workshop at a local church, called Growing In God’s Truth: Spirit, Soul and Body.

I learned lots of good stuff, but upon realizing we had hit our last night, I really felt I was missing something. I mean, lots of things were clicking for me but I felt the class just wasn’t complete. I needed more.

One of the last things one of our instructors left us with was, what is your self-talk saying? What are the lies you are telling yourself?

During class, I just ignored the question. I didn’t feel she was talking to me because I’ve already done my self examination and worked through all the false messages I heard growing up.

If given a minute I could give you the exact day of when I developed a weight issue. I know now what I thought then, was not truth. Seriously, not an issue anymore.

I’ve struggled with and came to terms with understanding my childhood was over sexualized and watching what you eat and exercising is living a healthy lifestyle, not a ploy for sex.

I’ve also learned the dirty thoughts that infiltrated mens’ minds while I was growing up was not my issue, but theirs.

See, I’ve done my homework. So what am I missing?

She also encouraged us to ask God what we are suppose to look like. How does he see us? Ask him to show you.

Tonight, as I was on my walk I decided to bring it up. I really didn’t have any idea of how I’m suppose to look like.

Now I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been on this journey before. I’ve lost a totally of 60lbs, only to put 56 of it back on.

But as I was on my walk tonight, I kept thinking of a picture I remember someone tagging me in on Facebook. I was helping someone out by serving at their block party. I wasn’t at my goal weight yet, but I felt good.

It was the first picture of myself that I can remember looking at and thinking, wow, that’s me. It was the first picture ever, that I can remember not feeling shame, guilt, or embarrassment.

It lasted for about a second.

My next immediate thought was, so you think you’re great, don’t you? You’re not all that great. In fact, give yourself a couple of years and let’s see were you’re at.

Tonight, I replayed that whole inner, interaction in my head.

One of the things I learned during my recovery and healing from who I was, and who I had become, I had learned a theory (that you may or may not agree with) that when something traumatic happens to you as a child, a part of you is stunted. Emotionally stunted, so in order to heal you have to identify that child within you and walk her through the traumatic event. Telling her what was truth and what was lies. Explaining what she didn’t understand. Helping her understand it wasn’t her fault.

I had thought I had already done that. I thought I had already identified all the little Kim’s inside of me and made her feel safe.

But tonight, as I was reliving this moment in time with the picture, I thought to myself, why are you so mean? I felt good about myself. Why did you have to ruin it? Who are you, and why are you just so mean?

Maybe I have one more little Kim to deal with. But who is she? Where did she come from? And what is her problem?

Another thing I’ve learned in my recovery, is hurt people, hurt. So I went through the process of trying to understand why she is so hurt.

God didn’t reveal much to me about this hurt inside of me or where it came from at that time, but as soon as I walked in the front door, my daughter pulled me down the hall for a talk and to hear a message from God.

A message, I was to give to my daughter, through me, to her, but was for me. Oh my gosh, God is so crazy like that.

She went on about not fitting in at school and how she was trying really hard at but she didn’t feel like she was doing very well and she’s just not good at some things…. when I stopped her.

Stop saying you’re not good at things. Stop saying you can’t do something. You need to stop, because every time you say something like that, there is a little part of you, inside, saying, “I can do it! Just let me try! If you let me practice, I know I can do it!” and if you never let her try, she’s gonna stop trying. Don’t do that.

As the words started pouring out of my mouth, I started apologizing to that little Kim inside of me.

I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you. I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you try. I’m sorry I gave up on you. I’m sorry I didn’t have faith.

Dear Heavenly Father, I know this little girl I’ve stunted inside of me is really you. I have told you no, for so long. I’ve stopped listening to you. I’ve stopped believing that you have a plan for me and have let fear rob me of it. Lord, I ask that you heal me once again. Remove the lies that tell me I’m unworthy, that I’m not worth it, that I am all that I have become. Restore my faith, Lord. Restore my faith, that exceeds my understanding.

Be Holy

I keep reminding myself, we are not under law or rules but under grace. However, we are also called to be holy, because he is holy (1 Peter 1:16).

To be holy means to be set apart.

The Bible says not to love what the world offers.

We are set free.

We are no longer slaves to sin.

Be holy.

Be still.

What does it mean to be holy? Maybe I’m doing the wrong Bible study right now.

I’ve been in the middle of studying food from the Bible’s perspective and praise. Praise, because it’s so hard to praise him during this journey.

But maybe I should be studying what it means to be holy instead.

There are so many rules to follow when I try to lose weight. And I’ve said before my goal shouldn’t be to loose weight but to be healthy.

And to be holy, is to be healthy. I can’t think of anything more healthier than to be holy.

Time and time again, I chose to put poison into my body. Food that does not contain any nutritional value. Food that slows my body down, instead of speeding it up. Food that is slowly killing me.

Today in the locker room at Rio Vista, I ran into a lady who was getting ready for a Bible Study she was about to lead.

She complemented me on my cross necklace and told me she was disappointment she couldn’t find hers today, since her topic was going to be about the cross.

We talked briefly about what the cross means. I told her I wear my cross as a reminder that I should die to myself daily.

It’s a Christianesse saying.

And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. – Luke 9:23

For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. – Mark 8:35

Yeah, the Bible is full of verses telling us how to be holy, set apart.

But that’s why I was there in the first place. To die to myself. To take up my cross.

I didn’t want to be there. I don’t like having to exercise. I hate even more having to watch what I eat.

I hate counting calories. I hate avoiding carbs. I hate following the rules.

But I do desire to be holy. I want to be set apart. I want to belong to God. I will be their God, and they will be my people. – Hebrews 8:10c

God gave me this body as a temple. He dwells within me. Do you know what happened to people who miss treated His dwelling place in the Bible? They died. They sure did.

I guess in a way, you can say I am too. Slowly, but dying just the same. And much quicker than what God has intended.

Lord, tonight I am asking that you make me holy. Set me apart. Make me yours. May I be blind to what the world has to offer. Set me free. Break my chains that hold me slave to sin. Keep me still. Dwell within me. Be my God. Give me life. Life that is yours. Amen.

The Struggle Is Real

My husband came home last night with a fitbit for me. Not because he’s expecting or demanding anything from me, but he’s known I’ve wanted one for awhile.

I’ve written about my weight issues that started off as more of a perspective issue but 35 years later, it has turned into a legit issue.

When I was pregnant with my daughter almost 10 years ago, I developed high blood pressure. It was the last month of my pregnancy and the last two weeks before she was born. My doctor wanted to deliver her.

There was no way I was going to do that. It would screw up my plan. I had my whole leave planned out, you know. Oh, no. She had to stay put, another two weeks.

Well, after a week on bed rest I said, “Get this kid out!”

Doctor reassured me, once she was delivered, despite being over 200lbs, my blood pressure would go down. Well, it didn’t.

I was on the blood pressure medicine for about a year before I decided it was time to come off. I stopped by meds without my doctors consent.

Do you know how dangerous this is??? How stupid?

I was off them for a year before I suddenly started getting random nose bleeds. And I’m talking about in the middle of working, all of a sudden, for no reason my nose would just start bleeding.

It would bleed for hours too. I couldn’t tell you how many times I freaked out and went to the emergency room for a nose bleed.

None of them took me seriously. I would wait for another two hours before I would be seen and then sent home with a clip on my nose, telling me it was nothing serious.

Yeah, my blood pressure was high, but they would say it was because my nose was bleeding.

I was finally able to get in to see my doctor, while my nose was bleeding and he determined my blood pressure wasn’t high because my nose was bleeding, but my nose was bleeding because my blood pressure was high!

In his exam room, he broke out some blood pressure medication and had me start taking them right there.

I never had another nose bleed. And I would never come off my meds again, until my doctor would say it was safe.

Four years later I decided I wanted to come off them again. But this time I knew to do so, I would have to address my “weight perspective issue” that had turned into a “actual weight issue”. That happens. If you believe something to be true, eventually, it is.

So I started to move more and eat less. It was…well a struggle, but I ended up losing 60lbs and after losing just 30 of it, my doctor took me off of my meds. And that only took me four months to lose.

First, he had me cut my med in half for a month and record my blood pressure everyday. I came back in to show him my numbers. Then I can’t remember if I had to take a half a pill every other day or if he had me stop them, but I still had to record my numbers every day and bring them in to him a month later.

My numbers looked great! I’ve been off my meds for three and a half years now!

But guess what. My weight that had been down 60lbs has almost gone back up 60lbs. I knew this day would happen. And yes, it is just as devastating as I thought it would be.

I’ve known for awhile if I didn’t get it under control again, I’d have to go back on my meds.

Now I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had a cold, but yesterday I blew my nose, and there was blood.

Now, every time my nose runs, I’m thinking it’s a nose bleed. Can you feel my paranoia?

So now I got a fitbit. Now it’s time to get serious again. So what does that look like? I have no idea. I still have Christmas to get through!

Ok, so here’s the thing. I’m going to track my journey (again) through twitter. Follow along if you’d like to join me. I won’t bore you here with it, unless something inspires me.

But I got to warn you. There won’t be anything sexy about it. I am going to be a baby about it. It’s gonna suck!

But I’m gonna do it. Because that’s what I do. I follow through. Plus, you’ll hold me accountable.

I don’t want to be on my meds. I don’t want my kids to be without a mom.

I want to be around to enjoy retirement with my husband. I want to model a healthy lifestyle for my family.

SO HERE WE GO!

Here’s The Post I Wondered If I Would Write.

I’m so sick of crying over my weight. Really, I am. It has been an issue since my childhood. The depressing thing is looking back on it now, it really WASN’T an issue.

I remember being bigger than the other girls. Actually I don’t. I remember thinking I was bigger but I don’t know if I really was. And if I was, that didn’t mean I was fat.

An incident had happen when I was young. I was nine. Up until this time, I had heard my mom talk about her weight being a problem, and a cousin having a problem but I never considered myself as having a weight problem. Until….

The summer going into the fourth grade year, my brother and I were playing soccer in a parking lot with some cousins, when I slid over the top of the ball and sprained my ankle pretty bad. I couldn’t walk on it, so my cousins ran to get my mom.

I remember clearly, as my mom looked down on me saying, “I can’t lift you.” She turned and went to get my aunt.

I cried. Not so much for my ankle, although I’m sure it hurt, but because at that moment I told myself I was SO fat, your mom can’t even lift you.

This is one of my most vivid childhood memory.

Twenty-six years later, I learned the reason my mom couldn’t lift me that day was not because I was fat, but because she had a procedure done sometime that week, that I didn’t know about. It had nothing to do with me and yet from that day forward, I had a weight issue.

If you’ve never had a weight issue, I want to fill you in on something you may not know. You don’t feel fat, you just think you are.

I didn’t feel any different that day or the next. Well, I couldn’t walk for a few weeks, but that was because of the sprained ankle.

But now I looked harder at that girl in the mirror. I studied her face. I noticed her double chin. I saw how her clothes hugged her body. I took notice of the girls who ordered a small soccer jacket and was embarrassed that I didn’t.

Nobody. Not one person in my entire life had ever made fun of my weight.

But I did hear, “You’re getting too big for that”, instead of, “You’re getting tall” or “You’re turning into a young lady” or, “You’re growing up.”

As I started to develop into a young woman, which I did early, I never appreciated the soft curves or extra padding. I only saw that I am, once again, different from my friends. That I am fat. I hated what I saw.

Why am I telling you this?

Because this is me, and I am struggling. I feel inept and insecure. I feel out of control. I feel bad. And I don’t want it to be a secret.

Satan loves to keep secrets. Satan wants me to wear a mask and tell the world I’m fine, when I’m not, really. Satan enjoys me feeling alone and disgusted with myself. He likes that I beat myself up, so he doesn’t have too.

I believe if I take my secret out of the darkness and into the light, Jesus can heal it. Jesus is light and he is the truth and although I don’t feel it or see it right now, there are changes going on.

It’s a process, I’m told. It’s about the journey, not the destination. So as long as I still see myself as a mess, I know my God is by my side and He is never idle.

– Oh Lord, I’m tired of crying over my weight. I’m tired of carrying this load that was never mine. However, I know this journey is not a waste. I know it’s what keeps us close. Continue to reveal to me your truth. Help me see the person you see. Teach me to be the woman you designed me to be. –

I want it to be known. I am weak. I am powerless. I do not have it all together. And I am in need of a Savior.
Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results. – James 5:16