The weight isn't the problem...it's the product of the problems

Let's talk about weight...mine. 

I think the last time I was truly skinny for any significant period was when I was a 4-pound preemie nearly 37 years ago.  Actually, it wasn't, but for the majority of my life, I've wrestled with the pounds.  I have struggled with self-worth, self-love and self-image, and I don't mind telling you that as of 4 years ago, I thought I had it beat.  Not so much.

2007 was a banner year.  I'd lost 34 of 44 pounds I had to lose, was hosting motivational events, dating a cutie who made me do the first double take I'd ever done in my life upon first sight, and started a new job as a Spanish teacher with much excitement and energy.  I felt more "me" than I'd ever felt, and I was on top of the world.  I had a church I loved, a family that was intact, and I felt safe.  I felt that I'd never lose my size 8/10 edge, and that I had conquered what caused me to stuff in the first place.  Not food so much, but to stuff my truth, my voice, and to stuff myself into a box that I could never fit into.  Then came 2008.

My aunt died, Cutiepie took a walk (without so much as a wave goodbye) and that set off a chain of events including the loss of my remaining 2 grandparents, to whom I was extremely close, estrangements and surreal events that culminated with my uncle's death in May of this year.  I can put it like this.  It's as though I've been underwater emotionally and mentally for the last 3.5 years, and I'm just breaking the surface.  I sat down tonight and wrote down the effect of every moment of loss; every slight; bit of disrespect; challenge and message that confirmed that I was as insignificant and invisible as I believed I was.  The moment I signed an agreement with myself that said I was less than whole, less than amazingly, divinely created, my body reacted, and so did my zippers and buttons.

I made a choice 5 years ago to work on my emotional and physical weight and to get myself in touch with myself.  Where did I cut contact with myself?  Why did I buy into the perception that there was a space between me and my truth?

I look in the mirror and I don't fully recognize the version of me that I see, because she's not fully me. She's just as I say, a version of me.  A moment of and in my existence that is invaluable because in this experience, I can re-identify the triggers and trials that influence me to stand still while the rubble piles up around me; and not only around me, inside of my emotional/spiritual spiritual space.  The messages that tell me to stand still rather than run or immediately dig myself out.  The weight that is manifest is not the problem, it's a product of my problems and perceptions, and knowing that the accurate version of me was the one who'd shed the baggage, found her voice and let her "diva shine" as my friend Sabrina says.  She's coming back.  It may not be a quick process, but I'm determined that it BE.