Mission Impossible... Joy in Everything

Blessed be your name

On the road marked with suffering

Though there's pain in the offering

Blessed be your name.

These are the words that I sang yesterday morning in church. These are the words that I've sung a hundred times without thinking twice. Except yesterday. Yesterday was different.

At Harvey Cedars this summer, we were told to have joy in everything. Really? Do I have to? Joy... in everything. That's a hard pill to swallow.

Joy in everything....

Things are rough in our house. We are going through a major trial which has definitely rocked our world. It's something so huge, that I really have a hard time wrapping my head around. I just cry instead. I cry and want to vomit. I have been so sick over this whole situation. Mike and I have recently said that if we were some ordinary couple and didn't have the love that we do, we would definitely be a divorce statistic. BUT, we do love each other and we have chosen a life together... rocky roads and all. I am so thankful for my husband. I am so thankful for his love. I am so thankful to our God for placing us together. No one could be a better match for me.

Have joy in everything.

Anyway, how do I have joy in the biggest trial? How do I have joy when I feel like our world is crashing down around us? How do I have joy when I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop? How do I have joy when I'm not sure if I have any joy left?

I'm struggling with having joy... and praising my God with all my heart, my soul, my mind and my strength. But yet, I seem to have a smidgen of joy. It definitely is not with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength... but it's there. It's a twinkle of joy. But I'm taking it and running. I have to. I have to take what little joy I can find and rely upon my Lord that He will take care of us. He will provide for us.

Deep down, I know this. Trying to live it is another thing. Trying to live joy in the midst of a trial is hard. Really hard.

But we have to do it. We have no choice. We will have joy. We will rejoice in the Lord... knowing that He knows what we need and will not give us more than we can handle.

He must have a lot of faith in us.

LOST

If you happen to stumble over the 10 POUNDS that I have now lost, please pick it up, set it on fire, and punt it across the country, never to be seen again.

Thank you.

YAY me!

Thank you, Capt. Obvious

It's no big secret that I have issues with my weight. It's no big secret that I'm not a size 0. Or 2. or 4. Or 6, for that matter. I never have been. Even at my smallest, I have always been a bigger size and weighed more because of the way my body is built. I have no hope of being a frail tiny little girl. I'm built like a linebacker. I'm not delicate. I'm a log... with boobs. And for the most part, I have accepted that I am not ever going to be a runway model. I like that I have an athletic build. I just wish it was more toned... less flabby.

I'm blessed to be surrounded by friends who love me the way I am and who choose to be my friend even if I don't fit into a size 4. I love my friends because they struggle with similar issues or they're own body image issues and we can talk about big butts and big thighs. We can talk about the fact that I can't see my torso right above my stomach without looking into a mirror because my boobs are too big and I can't see past the shelf. I surround myself with these girls because they make me feel beautiful (when, in fact, I know that I am not... most days. It's amazing what I can do with make-up though).

So, even though I have these girls and I am not frail on the outside, I'm still frail on the inside. I'm trying to be stronger, and was doing fairly well, until this afternoon. And honestly, I thought I was ok, until my husband came in and looked at me. He knew that I wasn't going to be ok after what happened. He knew that those few seconds of a conversation had rocked my world and had broken every little piece of self respect and what little positive self image I had. He knows me so well... sometimes better than I know myself.

I'm sure it was an innocent comment. But it stung. It stung and burned right to my very core. It took every bit of pride that I had gained after losing my 7 pounds and buried it. And it makes me mad that someone's inconsiderate comment can do that to me.

This afternoon, we were revamping our life insurance. We were adjusting our coverage to better fit our needs. It was so simple. A click here. A check mark there. A question here. A question there. And it was those questions that got the ball rolling. The question posed to me was "How much do you weigh?".

Really?

I looked at him. He looked back. And I answered. "A lot." He laughed, and said that it won't accept "a lot". So I told him my weight (minus 2 pounds... I had to give him a nice round number).

He looked at me and said "Come on, that's not what you weigh. Are you serious?"

Um, yeah. If I was going to make up a number, don't you think it would be a more flattering number?????

He continued to look at me and said "You don't look that big".

Seriously? I don't look that big?

Oh, why thank you! Thank you for telling me that I don't look as fat as one would think of someone who tipped the scales at what I do. Thank you for not making me feel like a gigantic whale. Thank you for not making me feel as though I should be thankful that I don't break chairs when I sit in them. Thank you for not making me self conscious of what I'm making for dinner tonight. Can't put on any extra pounds, now.

I hate that this person said these things and doesn't know how much this hurt. I hate that a comment like that can make me feel like it does. I hate that I have to see this person every week. I hate that I'm not a number on the scale that is more realistic to expectations. I hate that I weigh what an average adult male would weigh. I hate that I'm not a size 4. And I hate the fact that I hate that I'm not a size 4.

Learning how to walk

I hit a traffic jam on my journey to weight loss. Well, maybe not a traffic jam, more of a slow crawl through a town of quaint little stores... a definite place of temptation for me.

My day yesterday went rather well. I tried to stay busy, as not to let the monster of hunger get to me, but instead sat on the sofa curled up in a ball with a blanket trying to stay warm. And while my main mission was to keep my body from freezing, I watched TV. Mindless hours of TV. I'm kind of ashamed to admit it because we really try to keep TV watching to a minimum in this house. But I watched it anyway. Hours of NCIS. It was a glorious marathon of NCIS. So, while I watched Gibbs, DiNozo, Zeva, Ducky and Abby crack their cases, I sat curled up wanting to munch.

I lasted the whole day without munching. OK, I lie. I had carrots. But in the land of Weight Watchers, they're free! No points for carrots. So, I munched on my carrots until my husband came home. The rest of the evening kind of flew by and I found myself back on the sofa watching TV. But, I noticed a trend. I get munchies late at night. I snacked twice. Darn it. But I stayed in my point range so it shouldn't be too detrimental to the scale come Friday. But seriously, how sad is it that I sit down, children free (cause they're in bed), next to my husband watching TV and all I want to do is have a snack? I think it's a little bit on the "not right" side. So, I have decided that this little trend needs to stop.

I, Jaimie, do solemnly swear that I will not snack past 8:00 pm.

Baby steps. I have to learn how to walk the walk of healthy eating and good-for-me-choices. It's all baby steps right now.

ROAD TRIP!!

So, I have begun a little journey called weight loss. My trip began in January, and I was hoping by this time, I'd be settled on the smooth highway, ignoring the exits and potholes along the way. Well, I think I've hit every stinkin' pothole and have eaten at every rest stop.

I have decided that I'm going to use this blog as my resistance to food.

I got this wonderful idea from an even more wonderful friend (thanks SK) to blog about my food and the exercise that I engage in. She's an inspiration to me and because she aspires to be a blog writer, I am hoping that she can see that even I can do it (and I have no talent for writing). So, I begin my fist entry to make the munchies go away.

As I made my decision to eat healthier and to take better care of myself, I had to come to some very eye opening realizations. I kinda knew all about these issues, but I chose to sweep them under the carpet with the rest of my cookie crumbs. Food is my friend. Food is my companion. Food is my comfort. Food is my non-judgmental, I-don't-care-how-big-your-butt-is partner for life. Sad realizations, but true nonetheless.

So my hope is that I can write my way through my emotions and times of loneliness. My hope is that, as I work through some of this crap, my hunger will be nothing more than something that comes a few times a day for the purpose of getting nutrition. My hope is that I won't pick up that cookie because I don't want to clean... or eat that ice cream because I'm bored and Mike is working late. My hope is that I lose a nice amount of weight because I don't need to eat all the time. A nice 40-50 more pounds would be fantastic...

Just for the record, I lost 6 lbs the first week, 1.4 the second, .4 the third, and I gained 1.2 the fourth. I caved.

Children home for snow days + baking to keep them happy and occupied + my issues = disaster.

I'm excited to see how this new idea helps me. I'll keep you posted. Thanks for taking this road trip with me.

PS... I'm not as hungry as I was when I started this. YAY!

Joy Rebounded

It's been so long since the last time that I wrote. I really didn't have too much to say, nor did I really need to write. Oh how the tides change. Now, if I don't write, i am sure to spontaneously combust. So here I go... not knowing where I'll end up.

This weekend marks the day that everyone around the country goes out the the stores, picks a card and gives it to their one true love... as an expression of their undying admiration for them. I never thought of myself as a lover of the love holiday, but I would go and pick out a lovely card and usually a small token of my affections and present them to my dear husband. More often than not, my efforts were not returned. This didn't necessarily bother me, as I do not do these things for a gift in return. But, knowing the eventual outcome, I have decided that my joy has been stolen. My childlike joy of the excitement of holidays and looking forward to a day that is out of the ordinary is gone. It's a day to celebrate something. It's a day to celebrate love. It's a day that the calendar people deem important enough to mark it on their product every year. OK, so maybe it's a day that Hallmark and the conversation heart people probably made up to build their profits, but I'm one who is buying into it. I want a day filled with red and pink. A day of paper hearts and cheesy valentines. A day where the people who love me tell me they love me. I love having a childlike JOY about this marketing ploy... but my joy has slowly been sucked out of me.

Perhaps it's been the past valentines' days of a card bought that day. Or a birthday that isn't seen as a special day. Or an anniversary that just goes by like a normal Tuesday.

But, I had a break through today. I wasn't going to go out of my way to do anything for this valentine's day, Why should I? He won't care. (This is what I thought). BUT, I decided to show my husband how much I love him even though he "wouldn't care".

Money is tight around this house... again. So I knew that going out and buying something would definitely get a grimace from the object of my heart's desire. So, I made him a card... with my own two hands. And on the inside, I wrote the lyrics to a song that was sung at our wedding. It turned out rather well, if I do say so myself. In addition to my masterpiece (which I should forward to Hallmark, just in case they were running out of ideas), I had downloaded the new album from one of his favorite groups onto my itunes and then burned it for him. No money spent. I used a gift card I had received for Christmas to but the download. I thought, "It's so little...", but I was pleased with my heart felt handmade Valentine's Day gift. Well, I gave it to him tonight. Tonight was our date night and I wasn't sure if he'd be around on Sunday with the possibility of work looming overhead. So I gave it to him. Holding my breath.

Well, he opened it. He read it. And looked at the CDs. And then he spoke.

What he said isn't really important. But to me, it was worth all the cards that Hallmark can make. He reassured my heart that he loves me and even though it's not often reciprocated, my efforts are appreciated.

My joy has returned.