Washed out. Defeated. S.O.S. (as in same old ...). I have suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the diet monster. I'd say my butt was toast but at the rate I've been going I would have slapped some butter and jelly on it and knocked that sucker back. I'm at a loss. I don't know how to beat this. I'm sick of my brokenness.
When I look at my son, who's starting to think that his daddy is something, how can I continue to ignore the exploding warning flags around my physical condition? How many times will I struggle to stand up when I've been playing on the floor with him before I freakin' do something? Tonight we went to Mardel's to pick up some stuff for Jenni's classroom. While she looked he and I went to the music, we put on some headphones, then went over to the TV's. They have like six TV's all showing a Derek Webb video called "I wanna be broken". He pointed at the TV's and said "ah!" very excitably. Yeah, we both kinda got caught up in the song. I was mesmerized watching and listening, seeing the lighting of the stage, and I looked down, and my son was equally mesmerized. I leaned down and put my arm around him and he leaned his head back on my shoulder and we just stayed there caught up in that song and that moment. It was both awesome and beautiful. So when I've eaten myself into the ground before he grows up, who will tell him that story? I'd rather tell him myself. You'd think that would be enough to make serious changes, but I'm too damn broken and weak and I hate it. I HATE IT!!
My beautiful wife sleeps behind me. She loves me and thinks I'm the warrior and poet I dream to be. She apparently thinks whales are beautiful, because she constantly tells me how attracted she is to me and how good I look. My excessive overweight body is a hindrance in virtually every area of my life and our relationship. She doesn't think I could look better, but she would love to enjoy a lifetime together raising our family and serving God. Most honest men know our wives are way beyond what we deserve, but her grace and abiding love for me in spite of the idiot I am leave me shaking my head unable to think of what words I could say. You'd think that would be enough to make serious changes, but I'm to damn broken and weak and I hate it. I HATE IT!!!
I heard someone say recently that it really is a matter of choice. I may say I hate it, or that I want to lose weight, but my choices tell me that's not what I really want. I think there is some serious truth to that. The most serious part about following that train of thought is it leads ultimately to confronting just how broken I am. When I first started this thing I felt like Aragorn and the Dead exiting the boats at Pelennor Fields and doing some serious whuppin, or riding down the hill at Helm's Deep with Eomer and Gandalf. Right now I feel a whole lot more like Boromir with a bunch of Orc arrows sticking out of me, thinking that all the fighting I just did was in vain.
I don't know how to do this. The title of this is something a lady painted on a plate at the studio a few days back. It gave me this flash of motivation, but it faded. I'm in a bad place regarding this battle right now. I need help.
Obviously, this is bigger than just my waist size and the numbers on my scale. It's about deep seeded changes in what I believe about God, myself, and community. It's all much bigger than me right now (and, uh, that's pretty big).