Sunday, April 19, 2015

Scales are for fish

As I write this my husband is on the floor with our daughter, playing with Legos. We recently had a wonderful visit with my mom to celebrate Grace's first birthday. Within a week of applying to some jobs, I got a few call backs from people who are interested. We are working together with family in order to make a big move which will bring us closer to the things we want in life.

And yet I find myself sitting here thinking about the scale. How much I fucking want to buy that "lovely" piece of metal and plastic and succumb to daily weighing rituals that will hopefully lead to weight loss. And not to forget, the loss of my sanity too and most of the things that matter to me.

Before Grace was born I made a promise to myself that I would not step on a scale other then in various doctors offices and I did it. I made it one year! Now just 3 days after my daughters first birthday and I feel that old familiar calling.

I so badly want to give in.

Seriously?

I am no longer angry at myself for feeling this way. As a whole it really hasn't had that big of an impact on my recovery or even life. It's just in that quiet down time that those thoughts creep in. The ones that tell me that if I was thinner I would be better. Better at what you may ask? Everything.

I would be a better mother and wife. I would handle stress way better. Our financial issues would instantly disappear and we wouldn't be pinching pennies. I'd have my dream job AND still be able to balance staying at home with Grace, happily. I'd be confident and not so sensitive. Life would be easy ALL of the time and I'd be happy. I wouldn't need anxiety and depression medications or therapy. I'd have my shit together, 24-7. Oh yeah, and everyone would ALWAYS like me.

I have been trying hard not to judge myself for still semi believing in this, especially after all of my years of therapy and support groups around body image and nutrition but it's hard. It is so easy to get sucked into this, no matter how many years I have been in recovery.

And well it's been three days and there still isn't a scale in my home...

So although I am sitting here fantasizing about how wonderful it would be, deep down I know the truth.

John is now giving Grace a bath. I hear her giggles, even in the other room. They bring me back to the present. She is my reminder. They are my reminders, that I am loved no matter what my size. That I am good enough right now in this very moment. That my emotions and problems aren't too much. That I am capable of taking care of myself and others. That my life will continue to unfold in the way that it is meant to, no matter what. And of course, that the number on the scale doesn't impact or change any of these things.