I used to think that I had to wait for my life to really
start until I was thin – wait to be loveable, wait to do the things I wanted,
wait to be happy, wait to like myself.
At the same time, I practiced the flip side of the waiting
game. I told myself I could wait until next week to start eating better and
exercising, or until after the holidays, or even just tomorrow morning. Except
I always found a way to move out that starting date. I felt like I needed to
find the exact right time.
Only after my mother died did I realize that I had played
that waiting game too long. I still had time to lose weight for myself, if
that’s what I wanted, but that didn’t stop the regret. I had missed my chance
to have a relationship with her that wasn’t focused so much on food and weight,
and I never did get to climb Mt. Katahdin with again.
Which is why part of this recent blog post by Andrew W. K. struck me: “Caring too much about our
looks -- and that includes our weight, our height, our hair, our face, etc. --
becomes an easy surface game to play and to keep us occupied so we don't have
to dig deeper into life's more challenging and important games…. Your life is
waiting….”
It simply never occurred to my younger self that something
might be waiting for me. Or perhaps
that what I truly waited for wasn’t the right time, or the right numbers on the
scale. I was waiting for myself to wake up, to truly live.
This knowledge would have been particularly useful because,
as it was, I didn’t discover until after losing weight that all of those things
that I wanted didn’t happen automatically even when I fit into regular clothes.
I still didn’t have the body I expected, I didn’t instantly fall into a perfect
relationship, etc. Certainly I could accomplish more physically, which I
enjoyed, but as for the other things, I realized only belatedly that I could
have started liking myself and finding ways to be happy long ago.
I wish someone had told me this before. Admittedly I don’t
know if I would have listened, but it would have been good to at least hear it.
I can’t say for sure what might have changed except that I might have been a
little easier on myself, and maybe I would have lost weight sooner, and maybe I
would have been able to climb mountains with my mom while she was still alive.
But maybe not.
I’ll never know, now. I’m only glad that I decided not to
wait any longer, and I hope that any of you who feel like you’re waiting for
that perfect moment – not necessarily to lose weight, but for whatever you want
to happen in your life – will consider that maybe it will never come, or
conversely, that every moment is the perfect one. You just need to stop waiting
and grab hold of it.
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