It’s been just shy of a year since I’ve last written, and my weight loss journey continues. These efforts often feel like the only true constant in my life, which makes me sad. “I don’t want this to be my life’s work,” I’ve cried on more than one occasion. And yet here I am, a few months shy of my 41st birthday, still trying to lose weight.

Those of you who have been following me for some time know that I finally gave up “dieting” in 2020 and apologized for my participation in perpetuating diet culture. My weight loss journey shifted to one focused on recovery and balance — recovery from eating disorders and addictive behaviors, and balance instead of all or nothing thinking and actions. I’d be lying if I said I never wavered — I’m not immune to the promises of a good marketing team and those flashy before and after photos. But in the end, I’ve been able to stop myself (even if one time it was only because of a $1,300/month price tag on a new prescription that a friend of mine was having great success with).

I’ve had my own successes. My relationship with food and alcohol is healthier than it has ever been. And I’ve done it on my own (with the support of my amazing boyfriend.)

But I am still overweight.

Why am I writing now? Specifically because I have something to say about scales, and attachment to outcomes.

Attachment to an outcome leads to disappointment

You will find support for weighing yourself every day, once a week, once a month, once a year, never and everything in between. There is no consensus. It seems the only thing everyone agrees on is that weight fluctuates day to day, hour to hour, and we need to be mindful of this.

I came here today to tell you that if you get on a scale with any expectation, or attached to any outcome, you will most often be disappointed. Just look at this post I wrote on May 24, 2017 (my birthday)!! It’s about a girl NOT getting her birthday wish because HER BIRTHDAY WISH WAS A NUMBER ON A SCALE.

From the post:

This birthday wish has consumed me, especially these past few days as I made all my last ditch attempts to make my wish come true. That included walking 11 miles yesterday, and ending my day in a sauna. I didn’t care if the number was back up over 200 after breakfast, or even a tall glass of water. I only wanted to see 199.9 for a second, just to know it was possible.

As you can see, weighing myself has ruined many mornings. This morning, I really wanted to get on the scale, but I stopped myself. Why? Because last time I wanted to step on the scale, I felt awesome! A second later, I wanted to drive my fist through the wall. I anticipated a significant decrease. I attached myself to this thought. The reality (the outcome) was that the number disappointed me.

In that instant, I went from optimistic and excited and feeling lighter on my feet, to feeling helpless, frustrated. angry, and discouraged.

All because of a number on a scale.

Did I mention that before getting on the scale I felt awesome? I know weight fluctuates. I know I’ve been eating better. I know muscle weighs more than fat (and I’ve been working out consistently the past three weeks). But I let the number get to me.

So I promised myself I would only weigh myself the 1st, 15th, and last of the month purely because I am still a data nerd and because weight is still a valuable indicator. In between, if I am dying to measure my progress in some way, I will focus on how I feel. I have a winter coat and pair of pants that don’t fit that I can try on. (Thank goodness it’s been a mild winter here in the mid-atlantic). And yes, measuring yourself is also a good option (again, as long as you don’t attach to the outcome). I did this for years and decided it’s just easier to try on some things that don’t fit.

This very simple concept that attachment and expectation leads to suffering is universal. It applies to everything in our lives.

So I will continue doing what I’m doing: drinking less alcohol, eating cleaner, and exercising regularly and I will try to keep the hopes and expectations at bay and let be what will be.

Fear in our minds produces fear in our lives. The fear-mind’s goal is to keep us living in a state of inadequacy, doubt and despair. I lived there for a very long time, encased in a shell of darkness at the mercy of my master. When I finally cracked the shell of my suffering, I saw a glimmer of light. Over the past several years I have learned to quiet my fear-mind. But now it is time to say goodbye once and for all.

“The mind cannot serve two masters,” Marianne Williamson writes in A Course in Weight Loss. In any moment we are either host to love or hostage to the fear-mind.

“The fear-mind leads to suffering as sure as the Divine Mind leads to joy. The various ways people anesthetize themselves today – whether through substances or pharmaceuticals – is a wail from the deep: Please don’t make me have to choose.”

But choose I must. And choose I did.

I wrote a letter to my fear-mind, the imposter who’s been masquerading as me, following the instructions laid out in A Course in Weight Loss. Here is my letter.

Dear Imposter,

For a long time I’ve allowed you to reside within me. I believed every disturbing word you said and acquiesced your every demand. I allowed your intrusion in my life and in my mind because you were always there. Terrified of what my own thoughts might be, I chose yours instead. After all, you were the Devil I knew, and I certainly didn’t trust myself.

So I allowed your terrible influence on me. You gave me permission to do bad things when I was on the fence, and goaded me when I resisted. You bullied me relentlessly and wore me down. I allowed it because I was desperately lonely and you were my constant companion, better than nothing at all. You binged on my sorrow, engorging yourself with power.

The stronger you got, the crueler you became. Only the worst of friends know someones deepest secrets, shames, and guilt and uses them to their own advantage. You projected my personal demons into my mind’s eye like a deranged curator of the museum of my darkest depths. Then once I was good and destroyed, you lead me by the hand to comfort in whatever form was available at the time.

That was your goal, wasn’t it? I was the source that got you your fix.

Until recently, I actually thought you were helping me. We disassociated together and numbed ourselves. It felt safe… until I came to at least. I realize now how much you were hurting me. You made me dependent and addicted and kept me chained in a prison of my own fears and negative thoughts, tracing a small triangle of destructive behaviors.

You said it was everyone and everything else that hurt me. I believed you. And so I placed my blame everywhere else and raged against the world while you got to stand by my side, the Devil in my corner.

But I’m onto you now, Imposter. I have come to realize it was YOU who hurt me more than anyone or anything else ever did.

I see your pattern and manipulation clearly. And I see that you need me more than I ever needed you. You need me, your host, to feed your insatiable desires for pleasure in all its destructive forms. But I will no longer be your source.

I’ve come to realize it is YOU who are weak. You feed on the sorrows of those in pain. You’re nothing more than a parasite. You’re small and insignificant and you cannot live here anymore. You cannot hurt me anymore. You are nothing.

I can stand alone in my own body and in my own mind. I know you know this because I can feel your fear and anger over being cast aside. It’s been some time since you’ve fed on me. There’s been little sorrow to feed on. I see you in the corner of my mind emaciated and scared. But I feel no compassion for you. There is nothing here for you and I will not help you.

You have to go.

I’m not afraid anymore. Not of you, not of being alone, not of anything I’ve done, and not of anything that’s happened before or what may happen tomorrow. Do you know why?

Because I am a warrior.

Because I live for today.

Because I have faith that whatever happens, I am loved and the Universe will provide. My heart is open and I have experienced the joy and light of Divine Mind.

I am well supported. Not just by my family and friends, but also by me.  I am well-armed with tools and knowledge. Most of all, I am armed with LOVE.

Give up this fight. You’re a demon, and I command you to leave. You cannot win.

You’re the last lingering darkness within my soul. But unfortunately for you, I was meant to SHINE.

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Well everyone, I did it! I lost 40 pounds in six months and met my HealthyWage deadline in the nick of time!

I feel wonderful! But I have to admit, those last two weeks were a real struggle, not just physically, but also mentally and emotionally. I still have a ways to go, too. But when I look at those two photos side by side, I feel incredibly accomplished and proud.

Everyone’s support has been invaluable! I can’t thank you enough for your encouragement, positive reinforcement, and all around great energy. It took a village, and I could not have done this without you. THANK YOU.

Inspiration

I’ve been told many times since I posted my victory photo that I am inspiring. That is an incredible thing to hear, and something I do not take lightly. I know better than anyone how difficult substantial weight loss can be. And many people have since emailed me with one question, often written exactly like this:

HOW?!?!?!?!

Like so many others struggling with their weight, I truly feel that I have tried everything. So it’s no surprise to me that people think I may have some secret method they haven’t tried before. The fact is that I don’t. I have been writing about my weight loss journey here for some time now. But it is true that I have had great success with specific tools. So I evaluated all that I’ve done and all that has helped me over the past several months so I could tell you how I lost 40 pounds in six months.

10 Things I Attribute Most to My Weight Loss

1. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy

I know it may be risky to start with this, but please don’t stop reading. Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) has changed everything for me, and so deserves the top spot on my list. In the simplest terms, CBT is a type of psychotherapy in which negative patterns of thought about the self and the world are challenged in order to alter unwanted behavior patterns. It may sound technical, but it’s not. CBT helped me to identify and understand the destructive thought patterns I was literally trapped in, especially when it came to food and ideas around my body and weight. Read my post Cognitive Therapy for Weight Loss for more information and to see this process at work.

I am absolutely convinced now that true, lasting weight loss must start in the brain. How can we possibly repair our bodies without repairing our thought patterns and habits first?

2. Competition: Fitbit Workweek Hustles

I am a competitive person. Knowing this about myself, I use it to my advantage. I love my Fitbit and diligently track my steps. The first week of January my friend, the talented writer, Glenn Walker invited me to a weekly Fitbit challenge called a Workweek Hustle where up to ten challengers compete for bragging rights. One week of friendly competition turned into six full months! Every week (and many weekends in the Weekend Warrior) a group of Fitbit “friends” compete for a virtual trophy, monitor each other’s progress, and talk a little smack. It has kept me active and getting more than my fair share of daily steps.

Many thanks to my friendly Fitbit community!

3. HealthyWage (Financial incentives)

Last December I made a bet with HealthyWage in order to utilize the power of financial incentives. I honestly don’t think I would have hit that forty pound goal if it weren’t for the $1,548 prize pot at stake. Check out my post Betting on Myself with a Drastic HealthyWager for more details on HealthyWage. And if you sign up for a HealthyWager of your own using this referral link, an extra $40 will be added to each of our prize pots.

4. Meticulous meal planning and preparation

Fail to prepare, prepare to fail. Without my meal plan, I am a sailor at sea without a map. And so every weekend I take the time to meticulously meal plan for the week ahead, including breakfasts, lunches and dinners. It keeps me organized, minimizes stress around food, and prevents unplanned and last minute calls for takeout. (As an added bonus, meal planning also saves us money and prevents food waste. A meal plan makes creating a grocery list a breeze. No more guesswork or buying anything that goes unused.)

5. The support of friends and family

You know those days when you’re really being good and eating well, and then your husband suggests pizza and mozzarella sticks for dinner? Or a girlfriend calls you up and invites you out for wine and nachos?

Me, too… but not these past few months. That’s because my husband, Mike, family and friends have been incredibly supportive and mindful of my goal and desire to eat healthy. Incredibly so!

For example, a few weeks ago I was shredding cauliflower for a cauliflower crust pizza, when Mike said he was going to order his own pizza. I burst into tears. No, it was not an appropriate response, and not fair to Mike, but I couldn’t help it (like I said, weight loss is an emotional journey, too.) I was instantly terrified and didn’t know how I would resist the temptation of his delicious white flour crust pizza next to my cauliflower one.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I don’t want to eat that though,” he said pointing at the mountain of cauliflower “snow.” “What if I order a wrap? Will that be better for you?” It was, and he did.

When Philadelphia Restaurant Week came around this past winter, Kathy declined my invitation to our traditional lunch.

“You know,” she wrote, “I have given this a lot of thought, even before your fitness/weight loss challenge. And I am going to decline. I will though, include a challenge: let’s look at the menus and see if we can recreate, with healthy/light ingredients some of our favorite dishes. We can recreate restaurant week, and still meet our fitness goals.”

I was so surprised, and then disappointed. Restaurant Week only comes twice a year! I expressed my disappointment, but reluctantly agreed. As usual, she responded with greater wisdom:

“This is where we compare and prioritize what we really want; and make the grown-up choices of how to choose the path that gets us to where we REALLY want to end up in the long term. Is it going to be disappointing along the way as we have to say goodbye to choices we otherwise would have made? Hell yes, darling. That is the pain of being human. I do know though, that God does reward us tenfold; we just never can see it until later. Proud of you!!”

See what I mean about support!?! I consider myself extremely fortunate.

And those are only two of hundreds of examples. It’s my Mom baking me sweet potatoes instead of white; friends running restaurants past me when making plans; my friend, Suzanne picking a place for happy hour that has awesome custom salads; Mike eating what I eat (99% of the time); people giving me the space and time to make good decisions, non-judgement, compassion…

I could NOT have done this without that support and patience and LOVE. Every single one of the most important people in my life wanted me to succeed. And they all did their part to help make it happen.

I wish I could name everyone who was supportive of this challenge personally, but there are far too many of you. Please know that I noticed, and that I appreciate you.

6. No junk food in the house

I could convince myself all day I’ve learned enough and am now strong enough to keep “treats” in the house. Maybe I am, but I see no reason to test myself. All I’d be doing is tempting myself. And decision fatigue happens. Shitty days happen. And it’s best that I don’t have something to reach for in those moments of weakness.

And so I don’t keep junk food in the house. It’s that simple.

7. The adoption of a simple philosophy: “Eat real food, mostly vegetables, not too much.”

Author and activist Michael Pollan wrote that. I have finally succeeded in being turned off by artificial (toxic) foods, flavors, and colorings. If it was made in a plant and has more than ten ingredients, many of which I can’t pronounce, I DON’T EVEN WANT IT. That includes you, Doritos. There are healthier alternatives. Organic non-gmo popcorn sprinkled with nutritional yeast; salt and vinegar potato chips made with only four ingredients, including healthier oil; real ice cream made with real cream… Our food has gotten so far from actual food that it literally turns my stomach. I don’t want it anymore. I’ll take the real food, thank you.

And so that is precisely how and what I eat: real food, mostly vegetables, not too much.

I love to cook, fortunately. I admit that certainly gives me a slight advantage. Our meals consist of real food every day, and yes, lunch and dinner is mostly vegetables. I am also mindful of portion sizes after years of weighing, measuring, and counting calories (which I no longer feel the need to do.) Something I learned the French say has also helped prevent me from eating too much. They don’t use “hungry” and “full” the way we do here in the states, as if there are two only options. They use “hungry” and “without hunger.” That stuck with me. And so now I always try never to eat until I am full and uncomfortable. I eat until I am without hunger.

8. Tracking

I gave up calorie counting several years ago after years of dutifully doing it and seeing no results. I concluded it doesn’t work for me long term and causes me stress. If it works for you, then cool, keep doing it. What does work for me, however, is food journaling. I write down everything I eat every day, as well as my exercise, and I assign myself a grade from A+ through F based on a personal rubric I designed. I calculate an average GPA at the end of every month. (Data nerd, remember?) As you may imagine, this recovering perfectionist strives for A’s and B’s.

Call this the accountability factor. If I eat it, I write it down. And I don’t want some late night binge dragging down my entire GPA.

9. Daily weigh-ins

I weigh myself every single day. And I recently wrote a post 7 Reasons Why I Weigh Myself Every Day, so I will direct you to that for more on why this has been so beneficial.

10. Yoga

It has pained me to give up yoga these past few weeks as I cut my calories so much during crunch time that I didn’t have the strength for class. Now that I have taken the weekend to rest and eat and regain my strength, I am eager to get back to yoga.

Yoga has taught me so much about my body, its limits, and its capabilities. Yoga has helped me feel strong and empowered. Next to walking, it is my favorite form of exercise. Probably because it is so much more than exercise. It is an experience of body, mind and spirit. I enjoy seeing how far my body has come, and what it can now do that it recently could not.

So there you have it. That’s in large part how I lost 40 pounds in six months. My advice: keep trying tips, methods, programs, and tricks until you discover what works for YOU. Tell people your goals so that they can support you in them. We’re all different and motivated by different things. If I learned anything at all, it’s that all journeys must go through a process. We must discover what doesn’t work for us in order to discover what does. Don’t stick with one program because people tell you it’s best if you’re not seeing results. Give yourself the freedom and flexibility to experiment!

After all, that’s what I did for years. And it eventually paid off. That’s how I lost 40 pounds in six months.

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Back on December 8, I shared my latest weight loss saga in ‘Twas The Night Before Weigh-In: My Christmas Struggle Story. In this post I’ve provided an update on how that all turned out. I certainly learned a lot over the past twenty days, including one very valuable lesson about the reasons why we do things. It turns out that because you want something is a good enough reason to go after what you want… but more on that after the update.

In case you didn’t catch the Christmas Struggle Story post and don’t feel like reading it now, I will summarize quickly (but it’s a good post so you should read it.) Long story short, I signed up for a clinical study and went through the majority of the enrollment process before learning my BMI was POINT 3 too high. I was given a week to lose two pounds right in the midst of holiday festivities. But I did it! Only to be told the night before my weigh-in that some of my test results hadn’t come in yet so we’d have to reschedule. Twelve more days, during the height of the Holiday season, I’d have to maintain this lower BMI. It was a struggle. But the day before my appointment I was on point to meet my goal.

Update

Nineteen days I monitored my weight, resisted cravings, adjusted and micromanaged, all during Holiday parties, dinners, and gatherings. Not making this goal was not an option. I would not suffer the embarrassment of not being able to lose two measly pounds and then maintain that loss. The day before my appointment I weighed myself and was on target. For good measure I decided to eat very light and skip dinner. All was well… until at 5:05 that evening when the doctor called.

It turns out that my weight wasn’t the only thing that didn’t meet the guidelines. My cholesterol was also several points too high. It was an automatic exclusion in the study. Maybe they could re-screen me in a couple months, she said.

I was disappointed. But when something is simply not meant to be, it’s pretty obvious. And this was obviously not meant to be.

I had plans to go see the new Star Wars movie that night and after a sense of disappointment, my very next thought was, “well, at least I can get some popcorn now.”

Silver lining. I ate the crap out of that popcorn, too.

Call it resentment, entitlement, bitterness, or whatever, but I ate kind of crappy the next day, too. I couldn’t put my finger on why, though. I feel grateful for the challenge and this exercise (pun intended). I learned that it IS possible to not gain weight, and even lose weight, during a month as full of indulgences as December. Being forced to lose weight for this study was precisely what I needed to learn what I could do, as long as I was willing to focus and had the right incentive.

Finding Another Reason

But now I’m learning how quick I can backslide as soon as my incentive is taken away… and I don’t like it. One and a half days I allowed myself to over indulge and feel whatever negative emotion I was feeling. I’ve put a stop to that. But I still feel less motivated. I wonder… why isn’t my health and my own desires to lose weight enough reason to go after what I want? Why did it take a doctor and a clinical study to get my ass in gear?

These are the questions I’m asking myself today…

I don’t have an answer, except to say that what I want needs to be enough incentive. And lucky for me, I have the perfect motivational mantra to help me. I got through nineteen days successfully managing my weight. I did it once, so I can do it again. I WILL finish the rest of this holiday season, and this month, and this year at my clinical study goal (or less), mark my words. And I will do it for no other reason than it is WHAT I WANT.

Everything happens for a reason. I truly believe I was not meant for this study. What it was meant for was teaching me this lesson. It gave me a confidence and an empowerment to end my year strong and to start a new one with even more optimism and energy than usual.

Because we want something really should be all the reason we need to go after things. For many individualized reasons, it’s often not enough motivation. But it needs to be. What better reason than because we want it!?

So now, ask yourself: is this a good enough reason to go after what you want?

It is for me.

I’m tired. Sure, it’s the most wonderful time of the year to be stressed and overwhelmed after all. But that’s not only why I’m tired. I’m tired because I have three events over the next three days all centered around food. The thought of navigating said events without overindulging exhausts me. The holidays are a particularly difficult time of the year for people with weight and food issues. But on top of the usual food anxiety, I have added pressure this year. You see, I’m participating in a clinical study and there is a weight requirement. A requirement I didn’t quite make…

But let me back up.

On the first of December I began enrollment for the clinical study. If you haven’t participated in one before, trust me that there is a lot involved. A twenty plus page consent form to review, physical, blood testing, other examinations… I was two hours in to my appointment when the doctor asked if I knew what my BMI (body mass index) was. “I believe it’s thirty-four,” I said. “Oh, good,” she said. “Thirty-five or higher is an automatic exclusion in the study.”

It was time for me to undress and prepare for the examination portion of this lengthy enrollment process. I sat on the edge of the examination table holding my thin pink gown closed around my naked body when the doctor returned looking forlorn. My heart sank.

“What is it?” I asked.

She placed her hands on my knees, a kind gesture. “I am so sorry, but I just calculated your BMI and you don’t qualify.”

Stunned, my mind kicked into overdrive. “I lost weight since my last visit!” I exclaimed hopefully. “Weigh me again,” I demanded, sliding off the table.

My attitude energized the doctor. “Let’s do this!” she said. “Take off your necklace, take off your earrings.” It would have been funny if it wasn’t so desperate. “I won’t ask you to take off your robe.”

“Oh God, please don’t.” Even though this women would eventually perform a breast exam and place her fingers inside of me, I have my limits. They include standing naked on a scale in front of an audience.

Just as I had known, I lost weight since my last appointment. Not too shabby for a week after Thanksgiving, if I do say so myself. The doctor punched the numbers into her BMI calculator. She looked up at me, sadly.

“Thirty-five POINT three.”

“POINT three?” I asked in disbelief.

She nodded.

Tears welled in my eyes. For the first time in my life I wouldn’t be able to do something solely because of my weight. And that is an incredibly harsh reality.

She placed a sympathetic arm around my shoulders as I apologized profusely.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” she said. “That BMI is too low. Nearly half my patients have a BMI higher than 35.”

“How much weight does the point three amount to?” I asked, wiping my eyes.

“Two pounds.”

“I can lose two pounds.”

“I know you can. But unfortunately we can’t continue with the examination at this point. But we can reschedule for a month from now.”

“Will we have to do everything over?”

“Yes, but don’t you worry about that.”

She gave me another compassionate squeeze and left me to get dressed. I was mortified. And full of self-loathing.

After a short while she returned looking much more positive than when she departed.

“Don’t kill me,” she started. “But I re-read through all the guidelines and it turns out we can continue with the examination and record your weight at your second visit next week!”

“So I just have to lose two pounds in a week and we can stay on schedule?”

“Yep!”

“I can do that!”

“Great! I have to ask you to get undressed again.”

This was turning into one hell of an emotional rollercoaster…

So let’s fast forward to yesterday, December 7, the day before my appointment. I weighed myself in the morning and I had succeeded in losing the two pounds plus a little extra for wiggle room (pun intended). I felt accomplished and relieved. The pressure would soon be off.

But then I received a phone call in the evening. All my test results hadn’t come in yet so my appointment would have to be postponed after all. Now, after all that, I have to maintain this weight twelve more days… and right in the midst of a jam packed holiday social calendar. FUN! It will be my twelve days of Christmas indeed. On the first day of Christmas, I’ll forego bread and pasta, on the second, dessert, on the third, cheese… oh God, help me.

The pressure is on. Willpower is not infinite. Like a fuel tank, it runs low. Too much use and you’ll find yourself on empty. I don’t expect everyone to understand this struggle. But there are those of you whom I know full well do understand. And also understand that one dinner out can add three pounds and the Christmas weight struggle is real. When food is a trigger, three nights of festivities and dinners (two of which are at Italian restaurants) is daunting. I am nervous and anxious.

But then again, I have the tools and I know I can do this. I am looking at these twelve days as an opportunity. An opportunity to test myself, practice tools, and shift my focus from the food to the people I will be spending time with. I am intrigued by the possibility of going through a holiday season not feeling bloated and indulgent, but instead feeling healthy and balanced. It will certainly make picking out my outfits easier… and give me added confidence especially with visiting friends and family I haven’t seen in a while.

I’m up to the challenge. Will I make my goal? Stay tuned to find out…

Like physical exercise, spiritual exercise works only if we do it. Even better is if we not wait to do it until we find ourselves in trouble. Often we work out hard after overindulging. This is not unlike our relationship with prayer. We often surrender spiritually and reach for a higher power when disaster has struck. Lesson 8 of Marianne Williamson’s A Course In Weight Loss stresses the utmost importance of practicing spiritual surrender. The goal is to get us surrendering to the divine and calling on the power that dwells within us all before disaster strikes. This is how we can begin to deconstruct and dissolve the emotions that lead to emotional overeating.

Lesson 8 calls for practicing spiritual surrender by handwriting a prayer 30 times morning and night for three days. The prayer is:

Dear God, please feed my hunger and restore my right mind. Teach me how to love.

When I first read lesson 8, I had a strong and immediate response. It was, “I’m not doing that.”

I thought the assignment was silly and unnecessarily time-consuming. But then something my friend, Kathy says came to mind and that’s more or less that it is often the things we have an adverse response to that we need most. Then I also realized this wasn’t that different than reciting “I have a choice” forty times for forty days while setting an intention for my mala. I also committed to doing every lesson in this book. So I picked a journal that I had been “saving” for a special occasion, gifted to me by another friend. It is leather bound with the impression of a magnificent tree, and has beautiful parchment pages. I knew this was the proper place to put my prayers.

And so, feeling slightly foolish, I sat and wrote my prayer thirty times, an image of Bart Simpson at the blackboard coming to mind. Then I did it the following evening, the next morning and so on until I was done.

This is not a religious blog, nor do I write about prayer here, so please bear with me if this isn’t your cup of tea.

I learned that the prayer is not unlike an intention. Throughout the act of repetition I began to really dissect the plea. I use food to feed my hunger, although my hunger is not for food. I still don’t know completely what I’m hungry for, but I know I am not in my right mind when I attempt to satiate my hunger with food. It has something to do with love, particularly the lack of love I have for myself.

Through the repetition I found some strength and ease. Then I disregarded it until I began to write about this lesson. I didn’t practice surrendering enough to make it habit. It would be amazing if I could surrender during difficult moments at the very least, but that is when I find it is hardest because I’m in some sort of blackout, autopilot state (more on that when I recap lesson 9). Surrendering when things are going well doesn’t even occur to me. This is why this lesson requires mental discipline. Through the process of writing about spiritual surrender, I have come to understand it more.

The book makes a point of reminding us that if one antibiotic doesn’t knock out an infection, it doesn’t mean it’s not working. “Prayer is spiritual medicine,” Williamson wrote.

“[Prayer] boosts your spiritual immune system by increasing the depth of your surrender. Whether or not you believe it works is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter what you think about surrendering to the divine. All that matters is that you surrender.“

Williamson continues to say that, “In all things, spiritual surrender marks the end of struggle and the beginning of true ease.” The point is to establish the mental discipline of calling on a higher power as a regular practice to cultivate and maintain serenity, not just in hours of need. The lesson is meant to dismantle our resistance to doing that.

“Spiritual surrender is a full-throttle willingness to let go of everything – every thought, every pattern, and every desire – that blocks love from entering into you and extending through you.”

It is a beautiful concept. I also happen to know it works. The problem is remembering to surrender. In times of struggle we often become so protective, and go so far inward, or leave our bodies completely, that surrendering or calling on something higher than ourselves does not occur to us. We become entirely narrow-minded and focused on survival.

Therefore, spiritual surrender will take a lot more discipline on my part in order for it to become a part of my daily practice.

How do you practice spiritual surrender? Any words of advice?

Following is the continuation of last week’s post, From Hating to Appreciating: Attempting To Love Your Body.

I’ve written before about how much I love the start of a new year. I imagine it was the high energy and positivity a new year brings that contributed to my second attempt at appreciating my body. January 17 was a bitter cold, dreary Sunday more than two months after my first attempt at completing A Course in Weight Loss‘ Lesson 7. The promise of snow lingered in the air and calm permeated my home like the scent of simmering soup. The weekend had been healthy and productive, my favorite kind. I had no further obligations and the clean sanctuary of my home office beckoned. The timing was perfect for ending an abusive relationship with my body and beginning an honorable one.

Preparation

I started with a long, steamy shower and concentrated on becoming more aware of my body as I prepared for the ritual before me. I sloughed my body of the dry skin that seemed to cover every inch of me, then slowly shaved my legs. This wasn’t my usual five minute shower, but more like the kind I take when I anticipate intimacy; giving of my body to someone else to enjoy. This time I prepared my body for intimacy with myself.

I concentrated as I slowly dried my skin, paying attention to each limb and joint. The silky material of my favorite robe felt pleasant against my skin. My awareness of my body increased as I sought to repair my relationship with the container of my soul.

Inside my office, I lit candles and incense upon my altar and played meditative music. I laid a towel on the floor directly before my altar and bowed to the Buddha before slipping off my robe. Standing naked and exposed, I battled embarrassment, shame and the urge to reach for cover. I stood tall, my hands in a prayer position at my heart. Snow started its slow and sporadic fall just outside the windows directly in front of me. I strived to summon the grace, strength, power and beauty of ancient kings and queens who regularly performed similar rituals.

Acknowledgement of Abuse

I reached for the oil. As the book instructed, I started with my feet. My cracked and calloused heels felt rough in my hands and guzzled the oil like desert dirt gulps rainwater. I apologized to my heels for giving them so much weight to bear.

Next, I lovingly smoothed the oil into the skin of my ankles and legs. I examined the scars and beginnings of varicose veins bright against the paleness of my flesh. So many scars… from accidents, bug bites, a tomboyish youth, all coupled with a horrible habit of scab picking. And then the pencil thin scars on the insides of my thighs. Not the stretch marks that are plentiful I assure you, but the marks I made myself many years ago. My eyes filled as the sight of those scars brought me back to my teenage bedroom. The sadness, loneliness and anger I felt then coursed through me. I cried for that teenage girl who felt so scared, so hurt, so lonely that she dragged razor blades across her flesh in order to feel something, anything other than what she was feeling.

I rubbed my thumbs gently over those scars lovingly as a parent might rub a smudge of dirt off a toddlers pudgy cheek. “I’m so sorry,” I sobbed over and over as I allowed myself to grieve, not just for my body, but for myself and the young girl I used to be. “I’m trying. I swear to you I’m trying so hard.”

I wrapped my arms around myself and hung naked in a sort of forward fold as my body wracked with sobs. My skin absorbed oil mixed with tears. When I was ready, I once again summoned the power of those ancient queens and stood tall once more.

Coincidence is indeed God’s way of remaining anonymous. Just yesterday I read these words spoken by Chris Cleave’s character, Little Bee in the book Little Bee:

“I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.”

I ask you all now to join with me in Little Bee’s pact. Let us all see scars as beauty. Okay?

Gratitude

I continued my upward journey as I thanked my skin for its ability to expand and apologized for making it have to. My belly. My belly is something I hardly ever look at in a mirror except to ensure it’s properly covered. It’s the palest part of my body, as white as the snow that fell just outside my window. I rubbed oil into it with both hands in a circular motion and apologized for hating it so much. I had rejected and detested my stomach, my core, the very center of me. In order to heal myself I now understand that I must make peace with my core and allow love to permeate the center of me.

Emotions continued their flash flood as I massaged my breasts with oil. Each was heavy in my hand. I have always disliked my breasts. They don’t make me feel sexy; they make me feel fat. More often than not, they are a nuisance. I have resented being told I should be grateful for them because men love large breasts. Excuse me if I don’t think that is a valid enough reason to graciously accept the many drawbacks of having large breasts.

But as I cupped my breasts in my hands I thought of my mother as she laid in her hospital bed post-mastectomy and placed her hand where her breast used to be and grieved the loss of her womanhood. And so I apologized to my breasts for disliking them. I apologized for not keeping them sacred and sharing them with far too many people who didn’t deserve access to my body so freely. I thanked them for not being cancerous.

The oil felt good against my skin and my body relaxed, responding to my touch, opening up to me, welcoming me. I began to feel more comfortable in my own skin and no longer felt the urge to cover up.

As I rubbed the oil into my back as best as I could, I apologized to my back for not being able to scratch and lotion it properly because I’m so wide. I apologized for the weakness of my core and shoulders that result in my poor posture, straining my back. I apologized that I’m so insecure at times I tend to huddle into myself, adding further stress to my back. Despite all this, my back truly has “my back,” so I thanked it for doing its job so amazingly well and praised it for its strength.

New Beginning

I covered the remainder of my body – my face, my ears, my neck. The sheen on my skin glistened in the flickering candlelight. I ran my hands slowly over my slippery surface, satisfied I hadn’t missed a spot. I sat on my towel in order to meditate on what I was feeling. Sitting cross-legged naked was so unfamiliar that I laughed out loud. “Here I am,” I thought. This was me in my purest state, nothing to hide behind. I looked down at my thighs, breast and belly and the way they all rested on one another unsupported by clothing. I sat up straight and lowered my eyes.

It’s true. I’ve fed my body excessive food, but too little love and care. It’s time to reunite my inner and outer self. I thanked my body for the way it moves despite everything I’ve done to it; for the miraculous way it heals; for the physical pain it endures and the resilience it demonstrates. I thanked it for the endless ways it supports me and for its power. Our skin is our biggest organ and I apologized for everything I exposed it to, environmentally, chemically, physically, all undeservedly. I thanked my skin for containing every single part of me.

Although I didn’t protect my body, it has protected me. I took advantage of my body and was in an abusive relationship with it. It took performing this ritual to understand all that. I am so grateful to have marked the beginning of an honorable relationship with my body. That was the goal of Lesson 7: to repair and restore the relationship between me and my physical self.

Like the oil, I think it’s safe to say it was absorbed.

P.S. Although I completed this ritual nearly seven months ago, I hadn’t wanted to write about it until now. It took me all these months to integrate the process and formulate my thoughts surrounding it. Now that I have, I feel the full benefits of the Lesson. If you’re working through A Course in Weight Loss, a similar book, a process of your own or simply wondering why I have been working through the same book for well over a year, please remember that change takes time, patience and space. 

My legs are currently covered in scars, bug bites, scabs, and peeling skin. Aside from their size, they look like the legs of a rambunctious 8-year old boy. This sort of thing never really bothered me before. But it does now, so I purchased a high quality vitamin E oil. Every morning I lovingly rub it into my skin in order to help it heal. What changed? Not my sense of vanity. But my sense of appreciation for my body and the skin I’m in. And that’s thanks to Lesson 7 from Marianne Williamson’s A Course in Weight Loss.

It’s been over ten months since I’ve written about one of the lessons in this book. That’s not because I stopped reading it, but because I got stuck. Lesson 7 is titled “Love Your Body.” It took many months and two attempts to complete this lesson… I don’t love my body, but I’m trying to.

Hating Our Bodies

Lesson 7 attempts to get to the root of not just why we hate our bodies, but what we’re hating our bodies for. But the truth is that our bodies have done absolutely nothing to us but endure and adjust, and we’ve done everything to them. We fail to support our bodies and yet our bodies continue to do their very best to support us.

“Your body has not done anything to you; it has merely reflected the raging battlefield in your mind.” – Williamson

Is it our bodies we hate? Or their size or imperfections or scars or other ways in which they don’t live up to our expectations? Do we hate our bodies because we are afraid of something? Sexual trauma victims often gain weight or self mutilate in an attempt to be less desirable. Do we hate our bodies truly or did we learn to hate them as a result of ridicule?

In our lives there is an incredible time when we are young and innocent and know we are wonderful and perfect… and it lasts until someone tells us we aren’t.

Do you remember the first time someone made fun of your moles or freckles, said you were fat or teased you about your height? Do you remember the moment you looked at your body and made a quick decision to cover it up? I remember all of it and more. I was one of the first girls in my class to hit puberty. The boys called me daddy long legs and made jokes about my breasts. I never thought twice about the hair on my legs until my mom called me into the bathroom one day to show me how to shave. Seemingly overnight there was so much shame and confusion about my body.

When I was fourteen or so I went to second base with a boy. After we “broke up,” I found out he called me P.N. behind my back. Finally a friend told me what it stood for. Pepperoni nipple. (I swear I can’t make this shit up.) I was devastated. At home I examined my nipples looking for any resemblance whatsoever to pepperoni. For years I was self conscious about my nipples. My nipples! Like we don’t have enough to be self conscious about. Anyway, after having seen many a topless woman in my life I have deduced that my nipples are no more irregular than any one else’s. Teenage boys can be mean and stupid.

Dumb shit like this combined with how women are portrayed in media combined with rejection, ridicule, and trauma is a recipe for body issues. We don’t start out hating our bodies. We are taught to hate our bodies. Sure my weight is my biggest issue, but I’m also too hairy, have too many scars, a big nose, etc. Everyone seems to hate something about their bodies. A beautiful woman I know recently lamented her sausage fingers. I swear to you her fingers are perfectly normal and pretty.

Appreciating Our Bodies

Lesson 7 called for buying an oil to rub into my skin while examining it, expressing gratitude for it, acknowledging what I’ve done to it, and most of all, forgiving it for what it did not do. The goal of the lesson is to repair and restore the relationship between us and our physical selves.

Naked, I was to begin by making an apology to myself for having mistreated such a magnificent gift as my physical body. From the bottoms of my feet to the tips of my fingers, I was to emotionally lean into my body, not recoil from it. I was to rub the oil into my body with acceptance, with love if I could, with grief if necessary. I was to take my time, paying attention to each limb, each curve, each scar, each joint. “Do not rush,” the book instructed. “Accept, affirm, apologize, and forgive.”

I bought the oil, an organic apricot kernel oil, soon after reading the lesson. But then it sat unopened as I waited for the appropriate time.

Last autumn I slipped off the plush robe provided to me in the spa-like bathroom of the gorgeous four star hotel where I was staying. I had packed the oil, thinking my surroundings would be ideal for such a ritual. Hands wet with oil, I began to massage it into my skin.

I felt nothing – no appreciation, no forgiveness, no love, no patience. My legs were pasty and purply and my skin was puckered and scarred. I poured more and more oil into my hands impatiently as my dry skin quickly absorbed it. “For fucks sake, you’re so fat you should have gotten two bottles,” I thought.  The lighting was wrong and it was too quiet. I didn’t want to do this. I wanted to hide inside my luxurious and bulky robe, eat cheese, drink wine and watch movies.

“Fuck this,” I said aloud as I wiped my hands on a dry washcloth. I slipped my robe back on, cinched it tight and turned my back on appreciating my body.

I wouldn’t try to do so again until a snowy day a few months later.

Please click here to read Part 2, Ending An Abusive Relationship With My Body

I haven’t mentioned my weight loss efforts in a while. Not because I haven’t been trying to lose weight — I don’t think there was a time in the past twenty years when I wasn’t trying to lose weight, at least in spirit — but because I haven’t had much to say. I’d be thin by now you’d think, but nope. I’m only ten or so pounds shy of the heaviest I’ve ever been. It’s so frustrating, too because I’m the most active I’ve been since I was tween, and I definitely eat the healthiest I ever have. But the weight is still reluctant to go away because I continue to struggle with emotional overeating and destructive behaviors.

Overeating

I overdid it this holiday weekend. I ate too much, drank too much and smoked cigarettes AGAIN. I congratulated myself just last week for going out for happy hour and not overdoing it; not smoking, not overeating when I got home. I worked my resistance muscle HARD and woke up the next morning feeling proud and accomplished. But I guess I pushed the muscle too hard and it was sore, so my giving in muscle picked up the slack.

Instead of feeling proud this morning, I felt disappointed, shameful, guilty, and frustrated.

One area where I now excel thanks to my cognitive therapy work is putting a stop to destructive behavior at the first possible opportunity, rather than riding things out until their logical and convenient end like I used to. Today is the last day of the three-day weekend. There’s still plenty of left-overs. I could easily rationalize overeating one more day and resetting tomorrow. But that’s the same destructive thinking that got me to where I am now.

Although my body was eager for a break and craved light foods, my emotions craved comfort and reprieve from the guilt and shame of what I had done to my body the past two days. I noticed my mood shift. I felt the urge to be healthy and productive today slip away as thoughts of TV-watching, napping, and eating danced across my mind enticingly.

Forgiving

I couldn’t let my intentions slip away. I recognized the destructive triangle I was caught in (thought leading to feeling, feeling leading to action, and action leading to thought and around and around I go) and knew I had to fight my way out. In a burst of energy and determination, I jumped up, silenced the internal pleas to stay on the couch, and took a shower. I created a new triangle because that positive action lead to the thought that perhaps I could forgive myself. So after my shower I meditated on forgiveness and moving on.

I quieted my mind enough that I heard the voice of my higher self. “It’s okay,” she said. The incense smelled sweeter and more inviting than the left-over homemade peach cobbler and I surrendered myself to the calm. I felt gratitude for my body, something I experienced for the first time when completing Lesson 7 from A Course in Weight Loss, which I will write about in another post. I also felt sorrow for what I had done to my body, but again the voice said, “It’s okay.”

I breathed in and out, letting go of this weekend’s weakness and allowing my mind to still. “You are determined,” came the voice of my higher self. “And you are forgiven.”

I haven’t been back on the couch since before my shower. I’m listening to my body instead of my mind, and only giving it what it wants, which is water and fruit. I’m grateful to be forgiven, especially because I’m only still learning that I have the right to ask for forgiveness. I no longer need to carry my guilt around like a bloated belly.

I feel lighter already.

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Near the end of 2015, I sat on my counselor’s couch and broke down about my weight. The topic had never come up before; it’s not why I had been seeing her. Weight was an issue exclusively addressed by proper diet and exercise, so I thought. It had never occurred to me before that very morning to ever discuss it with her. But the night before, I binged and purged and the taste of shame and regret lingered in my mouth. I felt desperate and frightened by my destructive and unhealthy behavior. So finally, after years of dieting and exercising, and successes and failures as erratic as toddlers with too much sugar, I finally sat across from her, crying, and asked if she could help me.

“I know how to meal plan, count calories, and eat right. I know how to exercise. Please trust me on this.”

She did trust me. After nineteen months, she had gotten to know me quite intimately. She was also excited – I sensed her enthusiasm. She knew how to help me, and I’d soon learn it wouldn’t involve any talk of diet or exercise.

It would involve my mind; the sabotaging thoughts and destructive habits that plagued me. She drew a triangle on a piece of paper, and labeled each of the three corners. Thoughts. Feelings. Actions.

“What do you think when you overeat?” she asked.

“I think I’m a fat fuck.”

She drew a line connecting thought to feeling. “And what do you feel?”

“Hopeless.”

She drew a line from feeling to action. “And then what do you do?”

“I eat more.”

“And then what do you think?”

“That I’ll never lose weight.”

She drew faster.

“Then I feel angry and disgusted. Then I do something destructive.”

And around and around the triangle we went.

“This is the cognitive triangle. This,” she said, tapping pen against paper, “is the destructive cycle you get stuck in. It’s not easy to get out of. But when you do, it works just as well. What do you think when you eat well?”

“That I’m a rockstar,” I answered truthfully, laughing.

“And what do you feel?”

“Empowered.”

“And then how do you act?”

“I make smart choices and take care of myself.”

“Exactly.”

Such a simple concept so clearly illustrated. I left her office that day with my triangle, a book recommendation, and a sense of profound hope and excitement. I knew we were on to something. Not only have I been battling my weight my entire adult life, I have been battling myself; my own sabotaging and destructive thoughts, that voice inside my head that told me I’d never succeed.

Yes, I’m overweight because I have a tendency to eat too much, but I know my problem is not food. I admitted I am an emotional over-eater. I eat my emotions, rather than feel and process them. I comfort myself the only way I have ever known how to comfort myself – with food- and then I berate and abuse myself for it, which only results in my eating more to comfort myself. It is a horribly destructive cycle. It’s why I’m overweight.

I have been taking this new approach to my weight loss since the new year and I am seeing successful results. It’s really hard work! No, not the exercise and meal planning and cooking. I love that part! I’ve always enjoyed that part – those habits aren’t new to me. It’s the rewiring my brain part that’s so hard. Quieting the sabotaging voices, remaining mindful, feeling terribly uncomfortable emotions, rather than stuffing them down into my belly with potato chips and cheese popcorn.

January and February were two long months of learning for me. But this approach is working! And I believe our minds are what most of our major problems are when it comes to weight loss, especially if, like me, you already eat right a lot of the time and exercise often.

I’ll be sharing more about this approach. It can be applied to anything we struggle with in our lives, which makes it so beneficial to everyone. I’m definitely on to something… it’s changing my life.

Do you have any experience with cognitive therapy?