Journey of a year...

On my 27th birthday I began a One Year Dating Sabbatical. The last in a chain of short-lived, bad-idea relationships had just fizzled to its end. I was dealing with the major emotional ramifications of some results of poor decisions. I needed to clear my head and get hold of my heart, so to speak.

It has been two years and three days. I have not dated anyone in that time--not for lack of trying occasionally. There have been one or two men I have been very interested in. There have been a few times I thought a date would be a very nice thing to try. But, I have not ventured out yet. And that seems good. Each time I have felt 'ready' something has stopped me, fortunately. Because although I have grown (physically and metaphorically) in the past two years, there are still big changes I need to make before I can be ready to share myself with another person...I've come a long way in accepting myself, but it's been so many baby steps, joined with periodic backsliding, for two years.

These two years have been full of pain and anger at myself and sorrow and change and I have learned a lot. But I still have a good way to go before I love myself enough to accept the love of someone else...That brings me to this year.

In one year (well, one year minus three days,) I will turn thirty. It doesn't seem old to me, and I'm not afraid or stressed out or crazy about it like some people get. What I am is looking forward to a year to prepare for another epoch of being me. I am giving myself a year to change into who I want to be when I turn thirty. Yes, I have come to terms with myself in last two years. (More in the last four months, really.) But I have also realized the things I need to change to feel better about myself. To be more confident about how I present myself to the world. To be more attracted to myself and ready to attract the sort of attention I want to receive.

Two hundred and nineteen pounds: 219lbs. That is the most I've ever weighed.
It's what I weighed in at before I took my shower today. I've done the calculations using the tools on The Daily Plate; my current BMI is 38.79. Obese is 30.

I'm 5'3". I gain half an inch when I stand up super straight. When I graduated high school eleven years ago I weighed about 130lbs on a bad day. My wrists are not very big around. If I squeeze, I can wrap my middle finger and thumb around my wrist and they touch; and I have very short, stubby fingers, so that's saying something. My point is, of course, I am not built to be a big person. I do know I'm actually fat, I feel the weight. It impacts my back, my knees, my hips, my foot. But in my mind, I still don't get just how bad it is . . . But then I see my belly in a mirror or look at a picture of my face, and I'm surprised. I'm saddened. I'm sickened. It makes me want to cry. Not because there is anything wrong with not being a skinny twiggy kid. I know I'm older and my metabolism is slower. I don't want to be unnaturally skinny, to have my bones stick out and my extra skin hang limp. But I'm built to be someone whose curves show -- not melt together. And my inability to stop eating is taking its toll on my body even more than my self-esteem.

I want so badly to change. I make plans, I set intentions, time and time again. It's the follow through that's problematic. I can't seem to make myself accountable to me. And it's making me sick. And I have to stop it now or it may never stop. I'm taking a medication right now that I first took when I was 23. I gained thirty pounds, count 'em 30, in two months when I first started this medication so many years back. It's been six years and I haven't been able to take all of the weight off. Now I'm back on that med, with the prospect of a dosage increase looming, and my weight climbing further than ever. And I'm frustrated, and angry, and annoyed, and scared, and stymied. It is a vicious cycle and I can't seem to break free...And I'm running out of clothes.

This needs to be a year of change. I need to make a physical transformation to reflect the emotional one I have been reaching for. I need to decide that if I am not happy with how I look, if I don't feel like I look as 'beautiful' as I can, I am not able to accept the wonderful things about myself that others have praised (my olive eyes, my red hair, my ghostly porcelain skin) but am going to always be intensely focused on the things I don't like (my yellowed teeth, my pockmarked face, my flabby limbs and stretch-marks and cellulite) then I need to change those things. I need to brush more often, eat more strawberries, suck on lemons; take better care of my skin, not pick at my face when it breaks out; exercise, moisturize, lose the weight and keep it off. I know I'm human and I will always find something to criticize about myself, some way that I don't compare favorably with my ideals of beauty. But I'm also the one who has the power to change the things I see as 'less.' And I need to exert control.

There is a chant that came to me one evening last year as I sat in meditation. I used to sing it to myself daily as I took my supplements. It's posted on my bedroom wall. But, I'm never really in my room. It's a simple chant, straight to the point, unlike the things I write here.

I am a child of choice,
I am a child of change,
I control my own destiny,
I am a child of choice.

I think I need to start singing it again each morning as I wake; and I need to start remembering to clearly set my intentions for the day as I go about my morning ablutions. I need to make the choice each day that I am in control and I am in charge of my happiness. I need to remember to look around me while I journey through life, instead of drifting aimlessly, bobbing mostly downward as I put the power in everyone's hands but my own. I need to be more aware and less complacent. I need to be fewer words and more actions. I need to do. I need to take this year to be a fresh start earned not gifted to me and to make the choice to change for the better. I need to...