Afraid of your own success? It’s not as strange as it sounds
This week I lost 1.5 kilograms. But, am I happy? Not if you look at the photo above. Today, I’m wearing my sad face.
When I woke up this morning, I was looking forward to the day. Today was the day I was going to start doing two personal training sessions a week. I was excited to set myself a new challenge, and focus more on my fitness and less on the scales.
But, Tuesday is “weigh in” day – and while I thought about not bothering to get on the scales seeing as I had a reasonable serve of pasta for dinner last night, I decided to go ahead.
Since I started this journey, other than the first few weeks – I have lost 300 grams here, or 800 grams there – but when I looked down, I’d lost 1.5 kilograms – making a total of 14 kilos since November. I was really surprised.
However, as I began my work out at 7am – everything went down hill. I started on the bike, then on the cross trainer. My body was working hard and I was out of breath – but I was ok.
However, when I was told it was time to do intervals on the climbing machine – I was not happy.
I didn’t even get half way through the circuit – my legs were feeling sore and numb at the same time – and I was just so out of breath.
I panicked and I said the four words I have yet to utter at the gym.
“I can’t do it”.
I’ve wanted to say these words on a number of occasions – but I haven’t in four months.
I felt scared about being so out of breath, I was scared of the feeling in my legs – and I panicked – and burst into tears.
I’m a very emotional person – but this morning was the first time I actually cried at the gym. I felt shattered that I had given up.
My trainer took me outside and talked to me about how I was feeling – and, in all honesty, I don’t want to give up. I have never really considered giving up.
However, at the end of the day, I think I am afraid of my own success.
When I reached my goal of getting under 100 kilos before my dress fitting, I thought I would be elated.
I wasn’t. Well, not for very long.
And, this week I lost double the amount of weight I have been in previous weeks – that should make me feeling fabulous and inspired. But, it didn’t.
I’m not saying that I don’t feel better and enjoy the fact my clothes are lose etc – but I guess this whole journey is just bloody hard.
Every time I eat, I have to make a choice – my mind still umms and aahhs about whether I’ll go to the gym or not.
In the beginning – I wasn’t confident that I could even lose weight. Well, I’ve proven to myself that I can. But, I’m afraid and I still have that little voice in my head trying to sabotage all my good work.
I dreamed that if I could lose any amount of weight, it would solve all my problems and that my confidence would blossom and that all my despair about my looks and my health would evaporate.
But, a bit of weight loss doesn’t do that. If anything, I’ve lost some of my coping mechanisms. I never would have admitted that I ate when I was happy, sad, depressed … But, I did.
I used to get up in the middle of the night and eat biscuits and drink coke.
I don’t do that anymore. But, I still get up. I stand in the kitchen and I think about how much I want to eat. Then, I turn around and go back to bed.
But, it’s draining mentally and I’m feeling tired. As I shed weight, I feel like more of my insecurities are exposed.
I guess I just need to go back to the mantra of taking it one day at a time and to just try and relax a little.
For those people who think weight loss is just about output versus input – as in exercise and food – well, you’re very much mistaken. It’s only a small part of a bigger battle – one of the mind.
It’s a psychological game, and, quite often – you are your own worst enemy.
So, this week I am going to think of some wise words my dad always tells when I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed by life.
“How do you eat and elephant?” he asks.
“One bite at a time!”
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