Letting Go of Fear

The alarm went off at 3:20am. The alarm was pointless, though, because I was awake and crying most of the 4 hours I tried to sleep while my husband held me in his arms. We both laid there having a silent conversation through our sniffles and sobs, knowing that getting out of bed meant it was time to say goodbye.

I watched as he loaded all his gear into the back of our van, and then I cried some more as I watched him gently carry our kids to the van and buckle them into their carseats. We drove the 2 hours to a tiny gas station off the freeway where he was meeting his friend to make the drive back to Mississippi.

5:42. We pulled into the gas station with 18 minutes to spare before he had to leave. Rain was pounding the windows of the van just as my heart was pounding in my chest. I kept glancing in the back at our kids. The older two were awake but somber. The baby was sound asleep. As the headlights of his friends' vehicle crested the hill, a small part of me felt glad that it was finally here. Not glad to say goodbye, but just glad that we can finally start counting down for the end of this deployment. Saying goodbye is like ripping off a band-aid. You know it needs to be done, but you know it's going to hurt. So you pull it back just a little at a time. When it's finally all the way off, you feel relieved.

He loaded his gear into his friend's vehicle, and the moment I was dreading was here--watching him tell our children goodbye. Our 3 year old began crying as he opened the door and climbed in to hug her. Seeing her tiny arms wrapped around his neck as she cried is one of those mental pictures I'll never forget. I don't know what he was saying to her, because he was whispering through his cries. Then he hugged our 5 year old son, promising him to go hunting and fishing when he gets home. Our son had 2 solitary tears--one on each cheek. I honestly think he was just too sad to even cry. He hugged the sleeping baby, knowing that when he comes back home she'll no longer be a baby. She'll be a running, talking 2 year old girl.

As I closed the van door, he grabbed me and held me tight. Both of us crying. How do you say the millions of things you want to say when you only have a few minutes left? All I could mutter was, "I love you. Please come home to us." We embraced as the rain drops turned into snow, and I remember thinking how appropriate. Our first kiss together was in the rain in a parking lot at college.

And with that, it was over. I got into the driver's seat, readjusted the mirrors and tried to compose myself. I drove away, headed towards home. He drove away, headed towards a war.

There are no words that can really accurately describe what it's like to watch the father of your children tell them goodbye. In some ways, I'm grateful that our children are still too young to fully comprehend where their daddy is going. They understand that he's in the Army, and my son understands that he's there to fight the bad guys, but I am sure the concept that daddy might not come home is not something they ever even think about it. For that, I am thankful. I, however, live with that fear every single day. It's not something I really ever talk about, but it's always there in the back of my mind.

The emotions of yesterday are still pretty raw. I'm fortunate in that I am surrounded by my family for the next few days. My parents welcome me and my kids (and 2 dogs and 2 guinea pigs) into their home. I'm so thankful they're here for me, helping us work through this transition to having daddy away again. It helps to be wrapped up in the love of those who care most deeply for us.

I am trying so hard to not let the way I'm feeling right now be an excuse to just give up on getting healthy. When you're in the depths of sadness, sometimes it's hard to see how you could ever come out of it again and move on towards success. But then I think of how proud my husband has been of my progress so far. He said to me more than once how amazing I'm looking and how happy he is that I'm getting healthy.

Right now 10 months seems like an eternity to be without him, but I know giving up on me is NOT an option. Giving up on me would also be giving up on my husband and my kids. If I don't get healthy, I know I'm giving up years with them later in life. That is not something I'm willing to sacrifice.

In the past, I have let life get in the way. I gained over 60 pounds in 5 years. I will not that let happen again. So, I'm giving myself a few days to gather myself. I'm focusing on eating healthy and spending time with my children. Next week I will get back into my exercise routine, and I'll keep pushing forward with my goal in front of me.

I realize that I have to do this for myself first. I cannot do this for anyone but me or the results won't stick. However, I will say that picturing my husband's reaction on the day he comes home is a powerful motivator. I do not want to disappoint him. So while I know there will be tough days when I just want to give up, I won't. I'm strong. I can do this. This morning the scale said 238.6, which means I haven't lost anything in over 2 weeks. But it also means I haven't gained. I have 10 months to get to my goal weight of 160. With hard work and dedication, I know I can do this. My only other choice is failure, and that's not a choice I'm willing to make.

When I joined MFP, I really didn't have any intention on utilizing the social aspect of the site. I just was looking for a way to log my calories. I'm so grateful that boredom got the best of me one day when I decided to browse the forums. I came across a post about The Biggest Loser compeition, so I decided to send a message to participate. The decision to click send on that message changed my life.

Sometimes I still can't believe I've lost 60 pounds since Aug. 1. Or that I lost almost 40 over the course of TBL competition. In my mind, I still feel like the almost-300 pounds woman that is in the before picture. In fact, when I went shopping the other day, I grabbed 3X shirts to try on because that's what I've been wearing for so long. The jeans I'm wearing in my starting picture for TBL are a size 24. The jeans I'm wearing in my after picture are a size 20 and the shirt is a 1X.

I've had some people ask me how I'm doing this--what's my secret. There is no secret. It's hard work and dedication. It's a determination to FINALLY get healthy and stay healthy. I just finally reaized that I am worth it, and my family deserves for me to be healthy. Each day I make conscious choices that bring me closer to my goal. Some days I struggle, but I keep reminding myself that I want to have life in my years. I don't want life to just keep passing me by. I want to LIVE it. That is enough to keep me going towards getting healthy. I'm doing this for ME, and for once I'm finally learning to love myself.

The picture on the far right is from Easter of 2011, and I was around 298 pounds. The middle picture was the picture I took on the day I sent my starting weight in for TBL competition--279.6. The final picture on the left is from Tuesday. That morning the scale said 238.8. Only 0.8 pounds away from 60 pounds gone FOREVER!

Today I found a part of myself that I thought was forever lost.

Most days I wear a t-shirt and yoga pants. Not exactly a fashionista, but I have three kids under the age of 5. I'm lucky to shower everyday and have clean clothes to put on. Today, though, I decided to wear my Old Navy sweater with a tank top underneath. Being able to shop at Old Navy is my latest NSV. I can now walk into the store and buy clothes off the rack instead of buying them from the plus size selection online. Great for my self-esteem, not so great for my wallet.

Anyways, most mornings when I'm drying my hair, I already have my t-shirt on. This morning as I was drying my hair, I just had the tank top on. I was focusing on making sure I curled my hair under as I dried, and I was humming along to Christmas music.

I dropped the brush, and as I glanced down to see where it went, I caught a glimpse of myself in the the mirror. I had to do a doubletake. What I saw caught me so off guard that I actually had to put the hair dryer down and just stare. There in all their glory were my collarbones.

Collarbones!!! I have collarbones again!

I didn't even have to contort my body and suck in my breath to make them appear, either. There they were, all on their own. And if I didn't know any better, I'd say they were smiling back at me, thanking me for removing the layers of fat that once covered them.

I don't think my collarbones have seen the light of day since before 2006--the pre-kid era of my life. Seeing them in the mirror today put a smile on my face. Just another NSV that shows my hard work is paying off and not just on the scale. I know one thing is for sure--there will be tank tops added to my wardrobe for summer. I'm no longer going to cover up in t-shirts. I've worked hard for my collarbones to be visible again, and I think it's time for them to make a come back.

Next up--legs worthy of wearing shorts with all my new tank tops next summer!

I feel like I'm slowly slipping. Drowning. Barely keeping my head above the water.

Not so much in the weight loss department. It's the one constant in my life that I feel like I can actually control. There's something comforting to me about logging my calories. Maybe calorie counting is the addiction that has replaced my need to constantly be shoving food into my mouth. I know that I have to log every bite, and I'm always honest with myself. So that makes me think twice before eating an entire package of oreo cookies in the midst of an emotional meltdown.

The weight loss isn't what's bringing me down. It's the rest of my world that feels like it's spiraling out of control.

There really are no words to describe what it's like to be away from my husband. The other half of my team isn't here, and I'm picking up all the slack. I'm tired. I'm grouchy. And I'm tired again. I'm lonely, too. I miss adult conversation. I miss being held. I just plain miss him. He's my best friend.

I love my children. But honestly. Being a mom is HARD work. Being a mom to 3 children ages 5 and under while their daddy is gone. Well, that's beyond hard. Maybe I sound like a big whiner right now. I don't know. I don't feel entitled to whine. I don't really like to complain. But if I don't get this out somewhere, I feel like I might explode.

I always try to make it seem like I have it all put together. Like this is easy. I smile. Sometimes the smile is fake. What I'm really feeling on the inside is helpless. It's not even really that I'm responsible for taking care of our household. I've come to accept that the dishes will wait until tomorrow. The laundry doesn't have to be folded or put away--it just has to be clean. I don't have to sweep the floor everyday. As long as the kids' needs are meant, I'm doing alright.

No. The hard part is feeling helpless when it comes to the pain that my children are in. My son is dealing with this separation better than I thought he would. I think he acts out sometimes, but for the most part, he's adjusting. The baby is pretty much clueless. I'm sure she wonders where her daddy has gone. She, thankfully, doesn't has a concept of time. It's my middle child that is really struggling. Every day brings a meltdown of epic proportions. Every night it's the same crying, begging for her daddy to come home. This is the part of the deployment that is emotionally draining. I wish I could wrap my kids up in some kind of bubble protection wrap that would keep the sadness away. Seeing them hurting makes me hurt even more.

It's hard for me to put on a brave face for her when I'm comforting her. Because really how she's acting is how I'm feeling on the inside. I miss him. So much. Beyond words. I hold it in, though, because I don't want the kids to sense my sadness. On the outside, I may seem like I've got it together. But on the inside, I'm barely treading water. 

I know that this too shall pass. In the grand scheme of a lifetime, 13 months is the blink of an eye. But right now in the midst of the storm, 1 day feels like an eternity. There's something deep inside me that keeps me going, even on days like today when I'm exhausted and drained. It's the same driving force that keeps me on the path to a healthy weight, too. I think I've found a strength inside of me that I never knew could exist. I'm stronger than I ever thought I could be.

 I'm not going to give up. I'm going to keep treading water. I might go under for a minute or two, but no doubt I'll make it back up to the top. I won't drown. And when this is all over, I will be stronger person for it--a better wife and a better mother. There's a purpose in the pain and struggle. It's just up for me to figure out what that is and make the best of it.