Part of the ugliness of being overweight is the pain and discomfort. I mean literal pain, not just the emotional and social. You assume it has to be there but not a lot of people talk about it outside of the contexts of trying to work out or go running. Of course exercise hurts when you’re fat! Imagine trying to jog with a grown mans dead weight strapped to your back and see how far you knees will let you get. See how your lungs burn and gasp for immediate relief.
So many times I’ve decided I will just go ahead and be a bad ass. I’ve got it in me right? I’ve got THIS! Mind over matter. Ill just push, push, push myself like they do on “The Biggest Loser”.
Obviously, that is TV and out here in the real world people cannot work out with a trainer for 4-6 hours a day with no other responsibilities other than burning that fat off to make inspiring reality television. But I HAVE tried. In my minds eye I can see myself being a beast. The athletic self that I kinda used to be emerging and conquering victorious. I don’t dream of wearing bikinis, I dream of big, muscled thighs strong and running. I dream of competition and challenges. I dream of marathons ( at Disneyland of course) and stamina to join in where life is being lived.
The truth is I am currently bound in a body that is simply not able. Stuck in flesh that is stubborn and prone to be at rest and definitely not willing to be uncomfortable. In reality, the level of discomfort that comes as a result is worse. I have nerve damage and problems with my feet. Years of being too heavy, wearing nothing but flip flops and having flat feet have ruined them. Every time I embark on a life of fitness, the inflammation sets in and derails my attempts. Leaving me to comfort myself with doughnuts.
Tonight I woke up with pain. The nighttime is the worst. I have no idea why. I got up to keep from waking up the Hubs. In the name of keeping this blog unabashedly honest I will admit that this is the trouble time for me. Alone late at night while my family sleeps is the perfect time to binge eat to distract and numb the pain. Physically and sometimes emotional too. Looks so dumb seeing it typed out like this. I just want to shake myself by the shoulders and yell,”knock it off”! No wonder, right?
I don’t share all of these heavy things ( pardon the pun lol) to be a bummer, this is just the reality of my situation and I did name the blog “Realology” so I better keep it real.
Well, tonight I woke up with pain and decided to write instead. That alone is a victory, thank you GOD. I poured a poem out that seemed to capture exactly how it’s feels to live with this little black cloud of pain that follows me around day to day. During the day it hovers at bay…but at night it storms. I was going to keep this one private. But I felt moved to share because I want to be completely honest and I realize that there are so many people in my life who deal with chronic pain, WORSE than mine, who have no way to express the prison of it. My pain will most likely subside as I continue to shed weight, theirs will not. I was moved to pray for them and share this poem as an offering to them. May we be reminded to take it easy on those in our lives we come across who may be irritable or distant. They may be struggling with pain, and the guilt that seems to come along with it.
This pain is staggering.
Waking me from sleep, ripping me out of dreams.
Deep in my bones.
Makes me draw in my breath and hold.
In hopes that maybe somehow I can make it go away by choking it of air.
My skin is plugged in and charged.
Electric shocks, stabbing angrily.
My whole focus is devoted to this when in full rage.
I’m dilated and in full labor, birthing something menacing.
My body turned against me again and is seeking revenge.
No pill, no remedy can soothe or dull.
Only the cooling of ice on the skin for a moment makes it bearable.
Ice is never cool for long enough.
To stand on my bare feet is to balance on jagged rocks.
I imagine pillars of sharp, crystallized blood hardening and forming
canyons and plains within the beds of my feet.
Toothed and serrated carpets.
Terrain that warns against trespassing.
I imagine when I rise and all of my weight sinks down upon them that
the violent plain is poised and ready to pierce my flesh like a sharpened sword.
Like a warrior, defending honor, it delivers blow after blow.
If I insist on being silent and still…
Shhh… I can try to ride it out like a storm current.
Maybe if I try to shake and bounce my legs in rhythm I can distract my limbs from this war they’re engaged in.
This murky cloud that sneaks up on me. Follows me and pounces when I’m not looking.
Robbing me of simple moments, because nothing is simple when my energy is constantly poured into this.
Understanding why people self medicate.
Change positions and wait for the volume to begin to dim.
Letting it settle.
Afraid to flare it back up.
My quality of life altered, and will always look around for a chair to stop and rest in.
Points and whispers.
Accusations of laziness.
Whispers of inactivity, leaving me lonely in this fight…
Surrendered to no one understanding.
No power left to explain.