You know, it's infuriating to fail. At anything, really. It's even more infuriating to know that YOU, and ONLY you are the cause of your failure. That
really stinks.
BUT...
If a lesson is learned from the failure, then it wasn't a failure at all. It was a lesson learned.
That is how I choose to view this latest attempt, which faltered not long after my last post in June. Why? Because of my focus....I'm sure of it. Despite what I've said, what I've written, what I've
thought, my focus over the past few years has been about my physical appearance,
not my health. Starting out each time, I would be all full of piss and vinegar, but eventually...usually sooner rather than later...I would get tired of toeing the line, and decide that looking good just wasn't worth the effort it was taking to get there....not when the instant gratification of a dozen piping-hot donuts was beckoning with promises of making me forget...even momentarily...that I was spinning completely out of control. The one time I got my head straight on this issue, I achieved results....
stellar results, I might add. Simply put, my focus was on my health...because I was afraid that I was going to die if I didn't
do something.
Back in 2003, I lost my dear husband, Bill to a massive heart attack. He was 51. He was also a smoker who ate like crap. Outwardly, he seemed to be healthy enough...tall and lanky, with a ruddy complexion. Scratch that surface, however, and he was a walking time bomb.
A year of insanity followed...mentally, physically, and emotionally. I lost it completely, not just my focus, but my desire
to focus. I can't remember half of what that year contained, and I think I'll always be glad of that. All I can remember is wanting to immerse myself in anything that would help ease the pain. I didn't begin to surface from that until I stumbled across a letter in the fall of that year....a letter that would ultimately change my life in more ways than one.
By the end of winter, I was ready to emerge from my self-imposed hibernation. I had spent way too many sleepless late-nights zoned out in front of infomercials, and I finally roused myself long enough to realize that if I didn't want to follow Bill into an early grave, I needed to take action NOW. In March of that year, I got busy. So driven was I at that time that my focus was like a laser beam....nothing could have shaken me from my goal of good health. Consequently, I not only dropped 55 pounds in four months, I was more toned and in better shape than I had ever been in IN MY LIFE.
A surprise discovery of love changed all that. My focus slowly dropped from my health to my new beau (now my husband), and although I did manage to keep the weight off for almost two years, it slowly crept back on.
Over the last seven years, I have gotten back on and off the horse so many times, I'm dizzy. I have done my best to rise and dust off my proverbial backside, every time I have fallen. But every time, it's really boiled down to the fact that I wanted to
look as good as I did back then. In reality, it ain't about the looks....it's about the
feel...both internal AND external. I. Want. To. Be. Healthy. I want to live a very long time, and share in the magnificence of all this life has to offer with my very healthy husband.
Right now, I am in no way healthy. I am almost back to my heaviest weight ever, and my body is exhibiting physical signs of the stress I'm forcing it to handle. From running races two years ago, I now can't walk from my car to my office without being painfully out of breath. My face breaks out easily, my hair is dry and brittle, my skin is dull, and I have become uncharacteristically moody. My digestive system is so wacked out, I spend a quarter of my day in the bathroom, and another quarter chewing antacids....in between meals and snacking on crap, of course. I hate what I have done to my body, what I've allowed myself to become....but I also love myself enough to take the action necessary to avoid the inevitable result, should I elect to continue on this self-destructive path.
And so....we come to a new year. A new chance at a new beginning. Of course, if you are a Believer, then you are probably familiar with the biblical passage that says that His mercies are new every morning. Following that logic, then, one could assume (and rightly so, I think) that new beginnings are possible with every sunrise.
In my life, a new dawn is approaching. In my mind, there is a different goal. And in my heart....I know that this time, I will conquor, because I have learned my lesson; painfully so. Time to once again dust off the breeks, and get busy.
Because the alternative is unacceptable.
I love this image that I found on facebook today....it's so symbolic of my expectations for this new year. In order to expand my comfort zone, I need to leave where I am...what I've always known... and go for it. It's not without risks, and the odds are against me, but what I will gain if I make it is so much greater than anything I've known before....and the victory will be all mine. All I have to do is get up the nerve to take that leap of faith.
