[I have a new low this week, but it’s a fraction of a pound, so it’ll be fully counted when it tips the ticker over to the next pound.]

I’ve had one of the best weeks within recent memory, with a few lessons scattered in there.

I was delighted last Friday to report a big loss, and I’m still thrilled with it. But I’ve had a lot of other good stuff happen, too, that just make me happy. One of the downright coolest things brought a lesson with it, as they often do. While the actual event has very little to do with weight loss, the lesson does.

I had the good fortune to reconnect with a friend of mine from high school a few months ago. We’ve been bantering back and forth on Facebook, getting to know each other again — it’s been 35 years since I graduated, after all. A few things change in that amount of time! Then — to vastly shorten the story, which took place over a couple of weeks — she sent me her french horn; we both played in high school.

I admit that at first, I held my breath. It’s not that I didn’t trust her; she hasn’t done anything to not make me trust her, and I tend to extend that trust to people until they break it. What I couldn’t truly grasp is that anyone would just send me something that obviously means something to them… but also deeply means something to me. I’m not sure I can accurately describe in words how deeply moved I am to be the recipient of such a gift.

The trust issue was in accepting the kindness, and understanding that it’s perfectly okay for good things to happen. I’ve had a lot of rotten things happen; but then, we all have, haven’t we? In my case, I still deal with a lot of mental sludge over so many broken promises from my father that I find it difficult to accept when people promise to do nice things for me. Part of me tells me it won’t happen. Another part tells me that I’m not worthy — which was the usual excuse my father had when he broke his promises and I questioned why. Broken promises were my fault, not his, or so he said.

My heart is filled with joy over this generous promise that was kept. It erodes just a bit more of that cynicism of mine, which is a good thing.

But even more than that, the gift itself is something that I didn’t really realize I needed back in my life: a hobby. When I was young, playing horn was my respite from a sometimes miserable world. It was that thing I did well; not because I tried, but because all of my emotions, both good and bad, found their best expression through music. Whether or not anyone else thought I was actually good at it wasn’t the point; I needed that outlet, that creative playground. I have not had that in recent years, and I have sorely missed it.

This is a weight loss/health blog, so let me bring it back around to this point.

I established this blog in the first place, because I think weight loss is just as much a mental exercise as it is a physiological one. If I want to lose the weight in the first place, and then keep it off, I need to find the keys to many locked doors that have kept me away from my goals in the past. It’s not only about discovering what makes my body work, as I spoke about in last week’s blog; it’s also in understanding and often changing my mental processes. I have to not only recognize what holds me back, but figure out solutions.

Trust is a huge issue for me. I often don’t trust myself to keep my own promises. I’m often a lot tougher on myself than is reasonable, although I do believe a certain amount of rational toughness is necessary in order to succeed in anything. Instead of just automatically throwing up defenses when something good is possible, I really need to examine why my mind shifts into that “good idea, but it’s not going to happen” mode.

I’ve been in a reserved mindset with weight loss; while I’ve been talking a good game, I still fight with that cynicism — I’ll believe it when I see it. I still haven’t convinced myself of my own promise — that I will lose this weight and regain my health, and keep it off, even though I’m doing that very thing right now. I war with myself; people say “it’s awesome that you’ve lost 46 pounds!”, but inside, I’m negating the compliment by reminding myself that 46 pounds is a small fraction of what I need to lose. I shortchange myself when I do that.

I need to stop doing that. Someone recently told me to stop putting conditions on my weight loss, and she’s on target. I have to trust the promises I’m making myself — and conversely, make sure I’m keeping those promises.