I'm doing pretty good today. My eating has still been a bit haphazard. Some decisions are real good, and then I tend to goof things up a little bit. All in all though, I haven't been doing too bad. I'm going to weigh in tomorrow, since I started taking my weight on Tuesdays, and there is no reason to stop just because the BLBE2 challenge is over.
I know that right now, I am hanging at 194.5 , which is pretty normal for me. I seem to fluctuate between 191.5-195. Since I have been struggling to find my motivation lately, I'm certainly not upset to at least be maintaining in the same spot. I want to push on and get further down on the weight scale, but it doesn't mean enough to me at this particular time. I've just got such big things on my plate, and losing weight is more of a background thought. Instead, I'm just trying to not eat a bunch of junk, and still be active.
I'm pretty sure that we all know that losing weight is more about where one's mind is, more than numbers. I am an emotional creature, and that is where I struggle with weight. I hit a bit road-block last week when reading my sister's "goodbye" letter that she left behind for me. In the letter, she said that she was proud of me for losing weight. That was basically the only thing that she said, other than that she thought I would be ok, and that she trusted me to raise her son. It hit me with tremendous force, like a sledgehammer to the chest- I don't like that of all the things anyone could say about me, that my weight loss would find itself in a suicide letter. I know that she didn't mean it this way, but I can't help but feel that all that I am and what I do was reduced to something as meaningless as the size of my jeans. If anyone is going to be proud of me, I desire with all of my heart that it would be for the ways that I try more and more to surrender myself to the Holy Spirit, to be more like Christ. I would want people to think of me, and to see Jesus, to know that my heart is so full of love and that my actions reflect that. It all just leaves me wondering if anyone really sees me, or whether my life just automatically becomes reduced to number counting, workouts, clothing sizes, etc. This weight loss journey has only ever really been for my benefit, the one selfish thing that I indulge in. I've never wanted it to define how other people think of me, particularly not my own sister- who should know me much better than most people.
All of that said, I am going out for lunch. It is time to pick my sister up, and I am going to take her to our local hole-in-the-wall so she can have something to eat that isn't hospital fare. I'm going to just have a breakfast plate of eggs and toast, and maybe some steamed potato. It's nothing fancy, but I want to do *something*. I still don't know how life is going to be with her back at home, and I'm more than a little nervous.