I have completed 15 days of my 120-day challenge, and I am struggling. Every day.
I went into this with all the good vibes and positive energy that I could find, determined and sure that I would find nothing but success. But 2 weeks in, and I’m only down 5 pounds.
I feel deflated.
I feel as though this task is impossible.
How, after 2 weeks of some of the healthiest eating in a very long time, and working out every day, have I only lost 5 pounds? Yes, my pants finally zip all the way up and that one pesky shirt fits better, but come on scale! I thought we were going to be friends?
Now here’s the reality to my struggle.
I feel 100% better than I did 2 weeks ago. I have a boatload more energy than I did. I have goals. I have clarity. I have dance parties with my son (which is more me dancing like a lunatic and my son wobbling from side to side while laughing). I feel confident; self-assured.
But those things are so easy to forget when I obsessively step on that scale every morning, praying to see a number below the one from the day before.
I forget that in the process, I have become something…someone, who didn’t really exist before. I was tired, lazy, and wanted to live in athletic clothes not because I loved working out, but because they were stretchy.
What’s crazy is that person is slowly fading into my recent past. I am looking towards the future, and dancing around the kitchen with my son while I do it. I have learned that I am a self-doubter. I am quick to quit because I’m afraid of failure. I want to be the best at something, otherwise why do it?
I am learning discipline.
I am learning to say no.
I am learning to be content.
The irony is that I am currently teaching these same things to my 10-month-old. He is learning that some things are ok to play with, and some things are not his to touch. He is learning the word “no” not because I want to limit him, but because I want to free him! I want to guide him to the places and things that will make his life better…not limit or hurt him. He is learning to be content with the space around him and with the toys he has. He has so much more than he could possibly need, but still he searches for that “something else”.
Oh, how the tables can turn.
Struggling is a part of this life. It is to be expected. I should probably go ahead and schedule it on my iCal for every day.
But if I know that struggling is a part of life, why am I always thrown off by it? Why does it make me want to quit? I haven’t quite figured it out. (My husband thinks it has something to do with being stubborn…I’m not sure what he’s talking about.) But I’m sure I will realize why I do those things all in due time. Then I can start the rebuilding process.
However, I do need to take a page out of my parenting book and start applying it to myself. I need to tell myself “no”. I need to tell myself to “be content”. I need to tell myself to “not touch”. I need to tell myself that I am capable and this is nothing more than a learning experience and it will make me a better person in the long run. Why? Because, just like I am teaching my son, when I learn the boundaries, I can be free.