Cell Memory

I have this year been losing weight. (This is part of the sticky beginning that I have no idea how to write.) But what I have noticed is as I have journeyed backwards in weight, I seem to be passing thrugh the emotions of the last time I was at that weight.

The first few pounds were no big deal - family drama/the move and all that being the root cause of the weight gain (or at least the handiest excuse) - other than the anxiety caused by weight loss and worrying that I'm going to gain it back or how to make the best choices when I really would rather eat french fries than raw zucchini.

The next set of pounds was harder, being the weight I gained after my mother died. This is when I began to notice a correlation and wonder. The last couple of years have been okay for me; I've been sad when approaching her death day but nothing overwhelming. This year, it started early and was hard, as in weepy all the time hard and beginning to look at people who lost their mother's recently thinking, "Well, they got 5 or 10 or 2 more years than I did," and feeling jealous.

But July 26th passed and I am feeling more grounded and the next few pounds didn't really seem to trigger much - just keep working out and sticking to an improved diet (SO many more vegetables than I've consumed in a very long time!).

But now I'm down to where I was in high school (don't get too excited - I was an obese teen) and the weight loss has stalled.

No doubt part of this is due to having worked at this for the last eight months and just feeling tired of all the work. However, I can't help but remember that this next group of weight was gained when I was an insecure teenager for whom food was a best friend and a solution to everything. I cannot remember how many times I would have a horrible-no-good-very-bad day and solve it by stopping at the convenience store for a package of oreos (the one pound sucker, not just a small candy bar size, of course) and a quart of milk or maybe a pint of Ben and Jerry's (chocolate brownie something or other was my favorite) and then going home and putting a sizable dent in either before I felt complete and happy.

I also can't help but think that food was my rebellion and where I could let go; so many "don'ts" that I really didn't do and food was one that no one could really tell or did tell me I couldn't.

I find myself back in those same shoes now that I am back at that same weight. Food is my best friend; it's always there when I need it and now I'm even better at finding those tasty combinations that are oh so delicious and nourishing to the soul. There are so many other things I stress about, do I really need to stress over food?

Which underscores what I've been feeling about this whole journey and life in general: there is just no avoiding the hard stuff; you can try to go around it but really you're just delaying the inevitable. I avoided accepting and dealing with all my emotions when I was a teenager, preferring to stuff or put things away because they were all just too much and now, at 36, I am having to pick up that gauntlet and figure out how to move through it. I just don't know that it's any easier now than it was 20 years ago.

Verbal Irony

(or maybe it's just coincidence. I get the two mixed up at times.)

One of my miracles for last year was to watch my tongue and be more mindful of what I say.

This year I am taking a class on the Book of Revelation and the teacher made a connection that I had never made before. He mentioned the iron rod, which via Lehi’s vision we know to be the word of God. But then he further connected that using John 1:1 from which we know that the “word” is Jesus.

Today I was pondering on this connection along with an idea from The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. One of his agreements is to be impeccable with my words.

Connecting this with Jesus, it came to me that He was so impeccable with His words and who He was, that He literally was the word of God. If I think of myself as a composite of the words I have spoken and thought, I'm saddened by the image; certainly my words do not always portray the woman I wish to be.

Having been pondering this and vowing to begin again and be "impeccable with my words," (I love that turn of phrase) I then learned that I had deeply offended one of my Laurels. It was an unintentional thing on my part: we were discussing as a class a gospel topic and I joked around, as I am want to do; it was one of those "just kidding" jokes. And while there was no malicious intent on my end, from all accounts I couldn't have hurt her more if I had sucker punched her.

I hate having my feelings hurt and I hate knowing that I have caused this dear girl pain. I am currently trying to rectify the situation.

I'm not sure what I wanted to say in this post. Perhaps merely that I have such a long way to go in becoming my word. I think this situation, though, may result in a blessing; it is hard to correct a problem that I do not know exists. Today, I am more aware than ever.