Monday, March 2, 2015

Getting Clean

I weighed in today. In one week I've lost 7.8lbs. I slaved every minute of every day of the last seven days to hear that see the numbers on the scale plummet.

And yet, as I sit here tonight, stuffed to the point of nearly being sick, after my nighttime snack of a protein bar turned into a binge of 2 bags of pre-measured pop chips and an apple. All innocuous in their ability to sabotage the work I've done- those things are probably not going to amount to a gain. They fit within my points...but its how I ate them.... feverishly...desperately....stuffing down things I cannot yet put a finger on....things that some cavernous void deep within me....that I need to fill then bury.

I have no hook or special ending for you, in the telling of this story,friends. Just my truth, in this moment. And shame.  Oh the fullness feels shameful. I thought of purging. How I would do it- shower running, fan turned up...toothbrush down my throat....

And I just could not go there...that next level of darkness.

So I'm sitting with the discomfort.

For tonight.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Crossfit Open 15.1 completed...And I Can't Stop Crying

This isn't the post I expected to write....after Crossfit Open 15.1- my first Open.  I figured I'd be expounding on how empowered I felt just to be participating; or maybe how significant it was just to show up because I'm overweight and out of shape- and, really, people, how many fat folks do you know who go to crossfit? Yeah most who are in the "chub club" wouldn't dare.

I've been crying, almost non-stop, since I left Crossfit Mt. Lebanon, this afternoon. A culmination of what may be a lifetime of disappointment and shame, washing over me all at once. And I think, mostly, I'm at a loss as to what the hell to do with these feelings....since my old coping skills (a/k/a stuffing my face) got thrown into the wind Monday morning, when I chose, again, to get clean from eating disordered behaviors. I've been clean now for 7 days...which, frankly,  feels like 100...and  every hour that I don't use food as a baracade to protect me from my emotions is a living f-ing miracle.

As I hung from the bar, struggling to get a rhythm to my swing and the required knee raises, my judge, the exceptionally compassionate and patient Nicholas Cooper, counted my reps, and I felt the full weight of my body and it's flaws and my spirit, which often soars in that space, just sank. I'm so, so myself... for allowing food to control my existence, for watching my body expand in gross proportions and doing little to stop it; for falling off the wagon, after 7 months of dedication, when my Mom died in September, and welcoming back an addiction that I knew I could not afford, along with haphazard attendance at the WODs.

My score for 15.1 is abismal...since, despite working my ass off at each of the movements, I was not able to pull off a 55lb. snatch- the "scaled version" minimum weight. I just could not get that bar from the ground to the air with those plates- 25 lbs. was it. And it wasn't nearly enough. So only my first 15 knee raises and my first 10 dead lifts counted (though I completed another two full sets of knee raises and deadlifts, after the snatch failure, moving on with the Open, as if it would be official). Yeah...I got a whopping 25 reps. That may be THE WORST score in the country....or the world, actually.  

So, I'm a puddle of tears.

And, yet, I'm still clean.

And, I'm clinging to the determination- the sacred battle-scarred woman within me, who whispers that just over this mountain of struggle there is peace and so much potential... She reminds me that the journey is not lost for hardship endured, but is made whole when the shards of my wayward existence, prove necessary, all along, in order to fit precisely together in some fantastic show of promise and purpose and light.

Today I grieve the humiliation and the loss of my story. Tomorrow I will forge ahead.

I am a warrior AND I CAN do hard things.