The last month has been one long lesson on staying in the moment — something I apparently have yet to learn. I now stand at 99.2 pounds down; a breath away from a major goal.
Being on a long term weight loss journey requires focus on two things: the end goal, and what’s happening right now. Focusing on the end goal alone, can be defeating; it’s one thing to tell yourself that you’ll drop a few pounds before summer, but quite another to tell yourself you’ll drop a couple hundred pounds over the course of… well… years.
Guinness Book World Record holder for building the worlds largest working revolver. The revolver is a scaled up Remington model 1859, that is 28mm in caliber. The gun weighs 99 pounds and is said to be accurate at 50 feet. I’m a lot more accurate than that!
Looking that far down the road makes the final goal seem unachievable, at times, especially if it’s a goal that has never been achieved, before. (In my own personal experience; I’m well aware others have done it.) I also make the mistake of thinking “when I’m at goal, I’ll do *insert list of marvelous things*.” It’s a distant promise of awesomeness, complete with daydreams of the things I’ll be able to enjoy when I will no longer have to deal with the weight issues I currently (still) have.
It’s great to have those long term goals, to want to be active, to know there are things I can achieve at a later point in my life. But I also have to live in this moment, with the reassurance that I’ve already achieved many positive things. I have to rid myself of the relentless murmurs that take over my head when I haven’t met short term goals; inevitably, there are reasons I don’t meet my goals. I know this on a logical level. But it’s at times like these when that voice in my head — my “Inner Walt” — starts nagging me with that underlying feeling of not good enough.
I’ve been teetering on the edge of making a major goal, and my brain wants that goal bad — to the point that I’ve obsessed about it, and believe me, I’m fully capable of over-obsessing. Regardless, that didn’t stop me from enjoying some holiday treats I wouldn’t have, otherwise; it’s a Catch-22. I can hardly be disappointed I haven’t reached my goal, yet, if I willingly compromised that goal by making food decisions that would likely delay it. That’s what logic says, anyway, and I need to push my logical brain to be more in charge.
This is why short-term goals are important. Granted, I’ve been dealing with a 1.4-pound goal for a month; it’s hard to get more short term than that! I want that 100 pounds for the sake of being able to say I’m 100 pounds down, and yet, here I sit at a new low of 99.2 — .8 away from that lingering goal. Nothing magical happens the morning I step on that scale and see that number; it’s one more landmark along the way. My husband asked me what reward I want once I pass that goal; my answer was (and is) “nothing”. Having met the goal is reward in itself. My brain will enjoy it for a bit… and then I’ll need to decide on my next short term goal.
Regardless of these goals, I need to be more conscious of where I am at any given moment in this journey; I’ve had people congratulating me for being 98 (.6!) pounds down, but inside, my brain has been silently (and scornfully) answering “but it’s not the 100 pound goal I wanted”. I have to be careful about getting out of the bratty side of my brain; when I took my first step on this journey a couple years ago, I would have been thrilled to know I’d reach this point.
In this very moment, I’m enjoying things I haven’t been able to do for a long time. Simple things, like standing in the kitchen and cleaning for 15 minutes without my knees screaming in pain. I can cross my legs; not gracefully, but that will come. I’ve got so many clothes I can wear, now, that I really should thin them out so I know what I’ve got. When I drive our SUV, I have to move the rear-view mirror to see out the back window because my butt-height has decreased; I don’t sit as tall as I used to. I’ve had to completely reset the seat in my car, because I got in one day and it felt too far away from the pedals; I’m the sole driver of that vehicle. (Not to mention, there’s a lot more room between my gut and the steering wheel, regardless of what I’m driving.)
These are the things I need to embrace; no, I can’t get out and walk miles like I used to, or squat my body weight, but I’m doing things that were previously impossible to do. Every step along the way is important.