I know you remember that a few moons ago I posted a series about “Reanimating The Warrior Goddess.” Complete with a Dwarfercise how-to. Well, as it turns out, I totally dropped the battle axe on that project. I know it’s hard to believe that I of all people got distracted and gave up. (We really need a sarcasm font to highlight that last sentence.)
The truth is, I have become more than slug-like. I am a ticking time bomb waiting for some sort of cardiac event or stroke. The realization hit last week when walking less than a block made me feel as if my chest may just collapse in on itself. It isn’t just about aesthetics, it’s about me not becoming one of the statistics that I treat as a nurse. Of all people, I should know better. I have been studying fitness, health, and nutrition since I was 16 years old. I was once a personal trainer, an aerobics instructor, a healthclub manager. I know how to do what I need to do. I know how to plan what I need to do. I just haven’t been able to do it. Maybe it’s because of extrinsic factors such as my job, a few injuries obtained in the past few years, or stress. But the real issue has been a full on battle with depression. So I have enlisted the help of a Physician Assisted Weight Loss program. In order to have my health issues addressed while on this road to recovery. This, people, is a big deal for me. I have made a decision that contradicts my pride. I have no choice but full disclosure, to the physician I am working with, and to myself. I can no longer lie to myself about the state of my body. I am dangerously unhealthy as a result of my weight. I know how many times I have stated that I am a proud fat woman. And I am. I do love my curves. But my situation isn’t about what I look like on the outside. It is about the damage happening on the inside. My goal weight is nowhere near what the textbooks say is my ideal weight for my height. Honestly, I think I’d look sick at that weight. I like having curves, I like having muscle. My only goal in this endeavor is to lower my risk of becoming like one of my patients before I even turn 40. This is the reality of my situation. It isn’t pretty.Of course I have outlined an exercise program for myself based on what I know I can stick with. And I have been doing mantras in my head to keep from beating myself up comparing what I can do now to what I could do then. Once the initial agony is over and I can walk more than a block without passing out from lack of oxygen to my brain I plan on revisiting (er... relearning) martial arts. Of all the exercises and programs I have endured in the past, my period of martial arts training was when I was the most happy with myself inside and out. I felt strong, and in control. Empowered. I need that back in my life. So now I sit here with my packet of personal data and plan of attack feeling a bit overwhelmed. I am nervous, excited, and still a little pissed off at myself. I am not an idiot. I am not uneducated in regards to how the body works. I am a human who has found herself stuck inside the most dangerous of human traps. The mind. It can be a force of evil if left unattended. Like a garden with no one to trim back the weeds and overgrowth. The mind can become a dense jungle of rogue, toxic thought. So I am going to spend the next few weeks with my gardening shears pruning my own garden. I’ll be on my hands and knees weeding the poisonous vines and grasses from the soil of my soul. And hopefully soon I will have the most glorious, lush paradise that I will continue to tend. Operation: Reanimate The Warrior Goddess is back in action. So mote it be.
Dear Goddess hear my plea, give me strength to not become...
