Diet Pepsi. The nucleus of my destruction. Tracing things back to where it all fell apart...this time...and likely all the times before it was the introduction of this seemingly harmless beverage. Unfortunately once this was allowed back in the whole system began breaking down. Enslavement. Addiction. It's ugly. This chemical concoction will not defeat me. But you'd be surprised at how hard it is to let go. Yesterday was my full day without one...and I know the headache by three o'clock and the nausea that greeted me this morning are just the beginning. My body won't take lightly to diet Pepsi deprivation, and that alone should validate that this poison is not good for me.
For three months I gave up pop, carbs, sugars, starches, and ate the strict Candida diet. I felt amazing. I took Plexus to help boost the immune system and reboot my gut. Everything went great. I lost thirty pounds and felt like I had finally found the key to unlock the door that had been slammed in my face for over a decade. Then I went to Hawaii in February. Diet Pepsi returned to the lips and I have continued to habitually drink it ever since. Even though I've been able to maintain the original weight loss, I'm stalled. No matter how many supplements I take, good foods I eat, or miles I walk the weight is stagnant. So the only logical thing to do? Let Diet Pepsi go for good.
June 11 is my next weigh-in. I am going to marry this low carb lifestyle, plexus, & exercise regiment and divorce pop and see where it lands me. Thankfully it is summer...well at least it should be, Alaska has yet to get the memo. Hiking is something we love to do, and as a bonus it is a good way to get into shape. We took last year off because it was hard, and honestly I am sure there will be plenty of bitter/sweet moments even now. We lost our best hiking buddy. I have a Fitbit so my goal everyday is to hit that 10,000 steps. That is a start. It's not over ambitious. It's attainable. And for me that is progress.
I feel like I learned a lot in this. I don't think I will ever look back and think this time was wasted. The girl I was twelve years ago may have been thinner, and probably more beautiful by the worlds standards but she was empty. It is in the brokenness that God meets us, restores us. I feel like I will come out of this a much more kind, empathetic, joyful human being. On the other side of this I will no longer seek out other people, or food to fulfill me. I won't sit in the seat of judgement on others in their struggles because it know all to tell just how mired I was in my own. The past twelve years were a quest for grace.
I think I have allowed Satan to convince me that I have been a failure all these years. That I wasn't a good mom or wife because I was overweight. And there certainly are instances when that was true. When depression and self loathing prevented me from loving myself...I am sure it was hard for my family to love me. But for the most part, the body of evidence over the past twelve years shows a person who lived a full life in spite of it all. The days that I was out there playing, hiking, camping, fishing, and living outweigh the days that I opted out & laid on the couch. I never gave up, I got knocked down, I stayed down for to long, but I have never quit. I know it hasn't been easy either for my family. Sully deserves a medal, not because he stuck it out with a fat wife, but because he lived out the vows he made to me on February 21, 2006. He loved me in sickness & in health. For better or for worse. And I think I was always kind of waiting for him to break his promise. Because I carried so much distrust into this marriage following my previous one.
My first serious relationship was one built on immense insecurity. From the very beginning I was tested. He had all these pre-requisites that I needed to meet before he would even officially date me. I know now those are red flags...but I was young, naïve, and immature. A college freshman, my first time away from home, and I was incredibly lonely. This man chronically compared me to other women, he compared me to his past girlfriends, and he always had control. I never felt adored. Loved. Cherished. That belief that I was inadequate was the foundation of the next five years of my adult life. I was only eighteen. I should have been focused on school and friendships. I wonder sometimes if this was the beginning of my inability to think for myself, the seed of people pleasing planted and already taking root. I allowed this human being to control every aspect of my life, even when it made me miserable. If there were happy times, I can't remember them clearly...because ultimately I only remember fear. Constant fear. Fear of being alone. Fear that I wasn't good enough. Fear that I would fail. Fear that he would leave me. And it was crippling.
It was in this five years I first experienced depression & anxiety. I don't have memories before this where I felt these horrible feelings. In fact I felt quite the opposite. I came from a place of love, encouragement, and self confidence. A foundation my parents laid for me, that I will always be grateful for. A sense of WHO I was. It was devastating when I married this man and it felt more like a prison. I felt trapped. No matter what I did it was never good enough. I was never allowed to make my own choices, even what I wore and how I fixed my hair was decided for me. Who I could be friends with. What kinds of movies or music I could listen to. I learned what resentment looked like. And spite. It was darkness.
We allowed it to escalate and fester until we hated each other. It was volatile and unhealthy. We brought out the very worst in each other. I was the epitome of bitter and I abandoned everything that I knew in my very core to be truth and I lashed out at God. I found my resolve just long enough to break free. Escaping with a very broken and distrusting heart. And it's crazy to me that it was in this time that I met Sully. This kind soul, who met me at my most flawed and loved me. At every turn I questioned that love. I believed it to be as conditional as the last. I have packed the baggage of my past around with me, waiting for Sully to ultimately do the same. And twelve years later I realize how much that baggage is weighing me down.
I don't know the man that my ex is now. I imagine he, like me, has changed a great deal and I wish him no harm. But the scars that relationship left on my life are ugly. I never really took the time to heal properly from that trauma. I know that carrying it around has given Satan an upper hand, and possibly I don't even need Satan, maybe I use those things to sabotage myself. How crazy would that be? I know that no matter how much Sully loves me, or my kids, or my family...it won't matter unless I accept that I am loved by my heavenly father. All those feelings of rejection that bubble up, they are the evidence that I relied on people for my self worth. People ultimately fail us, some more so than others. I needed to find my identity in CHRIST.
I can look back now and see God working in my life, in Sully's, even in our mess. He has continued that work throughout the past twelve, nearly thirteen years we've been together. Our history seeping through, our wounds laid bare. And God continually works for our good. I have discovered what true love looks like. The beautiful love that kisses your forehead when your sick. The strong love that forgives you when you have wronged. The fierce love that loves when you have given up on yourself. The protective love that shields you from the things that bring you pain. I remember the first time I acknowledged it, recognized it was different. In the hospital after Aiden was born. Exposed and at my worst, standing in a shower unable to do for myself relying on him, I was embarrassed...and all I saw was love in his eyes. I wished in that moment I could see myself through his eyes. Because I was fixated on all the things I didn't want him to see. How many times has my husband loved me in that way, and I missed it because I was so engrossed in self doubt. Encased in that familiar fear. I'm not good enough. He will eventually leave. Lies.
Oh what a process this has been. Purging of the soul. I am thankful I have a place to put it all so that when I forget I can read back and be reminded. It is strange how fast we forget. Usually the moment we are forced to put all that we have learned into practice and experience the stretching out of our comfort zone. It is easy when I am sitting here regurgitating it to you, and so hard when I am needing to live it out in my daily life.
This blog has been much more honest than I ever intended.
For three months I gave up pop, carbs, sugars, starches, and ate the strict Candida diet. I felt amazing. I took Plexus to help boost the immune system and reboot my gut. Everything went great. I lost thirty pounds and felt like I had finally found the key to unlock the door that had been slammed in my face for over a decade. Then I went to Hawaii in February. Diet Pepsi returned to the lips and I have continued to habitually drink it ever since. Even though I've been able to maintain the original weight loss, I'm stalled. No matter how many supplements I take, good foods I eat, or miles I walk the weight is stagnant. So the only logical thing to do? Let Diet Pepsi go for good.
June 11 is my next weigh-in. I am going to marry this low carb lifestyle, plexus, & exercise regiment and divorce pop and see where it lands me. Thankfully it is summer...well at least it should be, Alaska has yet to get the memo. Hiking is something we love to do, and as a bonus it is a good way to get into shape. We took last year off because it was hard, and honestly I am sure there will be plenty of bitter/sweet moments even now. We lost our best hiking buddy. I have a Fitbit so my goal everyday is to hit that 10,000 steps. That is a start. It's not over ambitious. It's attainable. And for me that is progress.
I feel like I learned a lot in this. I don't think I will ever look back and think this time was wasted. The girl I was twelve years ago may have been thinner, and probably more beautiful by the worlds standards but she was empty. It is in the brokenness that God meets us, restores us. I feel like I will come out of this a much more kind, empathetic, joyful human being. On the other side of this I will no longer seek out other people, or food to fulfill me. I won't sit in the seat of judgement on others in their struggles because it know all to tell just how mired I was in my own. The past twelve years were a quest for grace.
I think I have allowed Satan to convince me that I have been a failure all these years. That I wasn't a good mom or wife because I was overweight. And there certainly are instances when that was true. When depression and self loathing prevented me from loving myself...I am sure it was hard for my family to love me. But for the most part, the body of evidence over the past twelve years shows a person who lived a full life in spite of it all. The days that I was out there playing, hiking, camping, fishing, and living outweigh the days that I opted out & laid on the couch. I never gave up, I got knocked down, I stayed down for to long, but I have never quit. I know it hasn't been easy either for my family. Sully deserves a medal, not because he stuck it out with a fat wife, but because he lived out the vows he made to me on February 21, 2006. He loved me in sickness & in health. For better or for worse. And I think I was always kind of waiting for him to break his promise. Because I carried so much distrust into this marriage following my previous one.
My first serious relationship was one built on immense insecurity. From the very beginning I was tested. He had all these pre-requisites that I needed to meet before he would even officially date me. I know now those are red flags...but I was young, naïve, and immature. A college freshman, my first time away from home, and I was incredibly lonely. This man chronically compared me to other women, he compared me to his past girlfriends, and he always had control. I never felt adored. Loved. Cherished. That belief that I was inadequate was the foundation of the next five years of my adult life. I was only eighteen. I should have been focused on school and friendships. I wonder sometimes if this was the beginning of my inability to think for myself, the seed of people pleasing planted and already taking root. I allowed this human being to control every aspect of my life, even when it made me miserable. If there were happy times, I can't remember them clearly...because ultimately I only remember fear. Constant fear. Fear of being alone. Fear that I wasn't good enough. Fear that I would fail. Fear that he would leave me. And it was crippling.
It was in this five years I first experienced depression & anxiety. I don't have memories before this where I felt these horrible feelings. In fact I felt quite the opposite. I came from a place of love, encouragement, and self confidence. A foundation my parents laid for me, that I will always be grateful for. A sense of WHO I was. It was devastating when I married this man and it felt more like a prison. I felt trapped. No matter what I did it was never good enough. I was never allowed to make my own choices, even what I wore and how I fixed my hair was decided for me. Who I could be friends with. What kinds of movies or music I could listen to. I learned what resentment looked like. And spite. It was darkness.
We allowed it to escalate and fester until we hated each other. It was volatile and unhealthy. We brought out the very worst in each other. I was the epitome of bitter and I abandoned everything that I knew in my very core to be truth and I lashed out at God. I found my resolve just long enough to break free. Escaping with a very broken and distrusting heart. And it's crazy to me that it was in this time that I met Sully. This kind soul, who met me at my most flawed and loved me. At every turn I questioned that love. I believed it to be as conditional as the last. I have packed the baggage of my past around with me, waiting for Sully to ultimately do the same. And twelve years later I realize how much that baggage is weighing me down.
I don't know the man that my ex is now. I imagine he, like me, has changed a great deal and I wish him no harm. But the scars that relationship left on my life are ugly. I never really took the time to heal properly from that trauma. I know that carrying it around has given Satan an upper hand, and possibly I don't even need Satan, maybe I use those things to sabotage myself. How crazy would that be? I know that no matter how much Sully loves me, or my kids, or my family...it won't matter unless I accept that I am loved by my heavenly father. All those feelings of rejection that bubble up, they are the evidence that I relied on people for my self worth. People ultimately fail us, some more so than others. I needed to find my identity in CHRIST.
I can look back now and see God working in my life, in Sully's, even in our mess. He has continued that work throughout the past twelve, nearly thirteen years we've been together. Our history seeping through, our wounds laid bare. And God continually works for our good. I have discovered what true love looks like. The beautiful love that kisses your forehead when your sick. The strong love that forgives you when you have wronged. The fierce love that loves when you have given up on yourself. The protective love that shields you from the things that bring you pain. I remember the first time I acknowledged it, recognized it was different. In the hospital after Aiden was born. Exposed and at my worst, standing in a shower unable to do for myself relying on him, I was embarrassed...and all I saw was love in his eyes. I wished in that moment I could see myself through his eyes. Because I was fixated on all the things I didn't want him to see. How many times has my husband loved me in that way, and I missed it because I was so engrossed in self doubt. Encased in that familiar fear. I'm not good enough. He will eventually leave. Lies.
Oh what a process this has been. Purging of the soul. I am thankful I have a place to put it all so that when I forget I can read back and be reminded. It is strange how fast we forget. Usually the moment we are forced to put all that we have learned into practice and experience the stretching out of our comfort zone. It is easy when I am sitting here regurgitating it to you, and so hard when I am needing to live it out in my daily life.
This blog has been much more honest than I ever intended.
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