It’s Just a Day…Dear 31 Year Old Chelsea

“It’s just a day.”

I’ve stated this more times than I can count this year as my birthday rolled around and finally arrived. In some ways, it’s always felt like just a day. I never had a birthday party as a kid – there was just cake, ice cream, and presents to look forward to. As an adult, none of that mattered anymore. Birthdays became a constant reminder of all the things I hadn’t accomplished yet. Who actually wants to be reminded of that every year?

People wish you happy birthday and you try to smile but can’t hide the eye roll. “It’s just a day” I repeat again. Nothing to get overly excited about. I’m another year older – another year wasted. I claim I have these big goals for myself but make no attempt to achieve them. I’m stuck.

Stuck in my ways. Stuck in my head. Stuck with feeling like I need to be everything to everyone but always forgetting to take care of myself – not allowing anyone to take care of me.

Counseling is helping. After years of feeling like I needed someone to talk to about all the things I’m scared to say, someone to ask me the tough questions, someone who will tell me exactly how they see it and point out the patterns – I’ve gotten just that. For a brief moment I almost said those words “I don’t want to talk about this” but I stopped myself because not wanting to talk about it is the exact reason I should talk about it.

One day I’ll talk about it all here, but for now, maybe I’ll pop in here more. Maybe I’ll use this as my way of taking time for myself some days. I honestly don’t know – sometimes I feel like it’s easier to write everything out – it makes so much sense when written out but life is more complicated. I’m stuck and I’m scared and I’m not sure I’ll ever end up where I want to go. But I’ll keep trying – I’ll figure this out.

Good luck 31 year old Chelsea – past Chelsea is amazed at how far you’ve come and future Chelsea is cheering you on. You’ll get your happily ever after. We’ve got this.

Learning to Love My Body – Falling Off the Wagon

A few weeks ago I started a post called “Learning to Love My Body – Skipping the Gym is Not an Option” – it came from one night when my brothers wanted to get together and I told them I had to go to the gym first. Usually I would have just skipped the gym, but I had made a commitment to myself to go to the gym and I wasn’t going to skip. That post has yet to be published, or even started beyond the title, because in the weeks since, life was about to teach me a lesson. Sometimes skipping the gym is an option and sometimes you fall off the wagon. 

A little background information on my life – I work two jobs. I commonly work anywhere from 52 hours a week to close to 70 hours a week. Yes, I could downsize and work only one job, but I also know that I could have the majority of my debt (student loans, credit card, etc) paid off in the next year if I continue to work both. As someone who watched my dad struggle with debt until his death, getting my debt paid off is very appealing to me – and therefore, I will keep both for the time being. In the previous months, I went to the gym on the nights when I didn’t have to work both jobs. I seemed like it was working. 

Then I got sick. I was sick for about two weeks and during that time I didn’t go to the gym. At first, all I wanted to do was go for a run. As the days went on, I didn’t want to anymore. I enjoyed the extra two hours a day that I use to spend at the gym. I stopped eating well and I started to feel horrible. 

I fell off the wagon. 

Learning to love my body is about understanding that sometimes you will fall off the wagon. It won’t always be easy – even when heathly snacks are in my fridge, some days it’s easier to grab for the more convenient option. It’s about trying again – making a new plan to get back on track. Learning to love my body is about trying again. It’s about never giving up, even when I stumble. It’s about focusing on my goal – be healthy and the weight will take care of itself. Learning to love my body is about never giving up, even when I fall.  

Learning to Love My Body – the Follow-Up Doctor Visit

I had my follow up doctor visit last week. It was scheduled to go over the results of some tests my doctor has ordered. It had been two decades, give or take, since I had even been to the doctor. This time, I wasn’t taking my friend along. This time it would be my doctor and I talking about my health. 

I had access to my results ahead of time, but I had no idea what they meant. A few worried me, but most looked normal. I also had no real idea what I was looking at, so going into that office that day was scary. 

I’ve never felt more relieved than when my doctor told me I was perfectly healthy. Yes, obviously I might still want to lose a few pounds, but I’m already working on it and she saw nothing in my tests that caused her any concern. Sure, my HDL level could be higher, but I was extremely close to the average and she said they would go up as I exercised more and did more vicious excerise. The average the paperwork gave for LDL levels was wrong, so those were perfectly normal too – a relief because that had caused me concern. Currently my only risk of developing heart disease like like my dad is that he had it – I have no other risks associated with it. 

Other than that, we talked about my health. The things I should and shouldn’t be doing. If I should or shouldn’t do something or take something – something I won’t discuss here because all doctors are different and I know that what my doctor recommended or didn’t recommend might be different than someone else’s experience.

The important thing is to be comfortable with your doctor and what they are telling you. I am comfortable with mine – she has my best interest in mind and her approach to health is similiar to how I’ve been trying to change my health. 

I’ve said in the past that I don’t view getting healthy as a diet, I view it as a lifestyle change. I started out making smart substitutions to what I ate and over time, my grocery habits have changed. I’ve started to crave healthy food and although veggies and I still aren’t best friends, I know that over time we will at least become better friends. She said it was okay to still eat what I wanted, but to be smart about the portion and how often – you don’t need pasta every single day, but once or twice a week isn’t going to hurt you, as long as you’re smart about the portion and what else you’re eating. I love that she views it the same way I do, it makes my journey to getting healthy seem that much more possible. 

Learning to love my body is about taking the steps to get healthy and make sure my body is healthy. Going to the doctor was one of the scariest things ever, but looking back on it, it really wasn’t the scary. I did my homework, I found a doctor I believed would be a good fit for me. I dragged a friend along so I would be more comfortable during that first appointment. I kept the communication open with those around me about what I was feeling. My doctor showed that she cared and explained things in a manner in which I could understand and when I had questions, I asked. Loving my body is taking care of it and that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. 

Learning to Love My Body – Even on the Days I Don’t

It’s not always easy to love your body. Sometimes I find myself staring at the mirror – completely unhappy with the image I see staring back at me. There are days when the quotes posted around my bathroom mirror do nothing to lift my mood. When I can’t even find something on Pinterest to make me smile. Days when I go to the gym and leave feeling like my body has failed me – or worse, I’ve failed my body. 

No one said loving my body was going to be easy. It’s a struggle. I feel like I should be able to run faster and harder and further. I can’t believe I didn’t go three miles. That piece of candy was too good to say no to. I want to be at my goal now. I’ve inbarked on the biggest patience test I’ve ever taken – being patient with myself and my progress, and sometimes, my lack of progress. 

On the days when I find it difficult to love myself, I focus on liking myself instead. Liking myself enough to eat healthy. Liking myself enough to understand when my body needs a break. Liking myself enough to listen to what my body is trying to tell me. My body and I are on the same side – it’s a team effort and we’re learning how to work together instead of fighting with each other like we’ve been doing for years. My body wants to be healthy and I want to get it there. On the days when I don’t love my body, I like it instead. 

Love is difficult. It easier to be harder on yourself than anyone else. It’s easier to deny yourself love and feel like you don’t deserve it. Even when I know I have a great support system that wants to see me succeed, there are days when I still beat myself up over the little things. Things that will seem so unimportant in ten years, but for now, I think that piece of chocolate is keeping me from my goal.

Learning to love my body is realizing that some days, it’s okay to settle for liking my body instead.

However, I will never hate it. Never. No matter how badly I feel I’ve failed myself, I will never look at my body with disgust.

My body is my home. It’s where my soul dwells. One day it will hopefully house my growing children. It’s a map of all the places I’ve been. My scars and bruises and imperfections are battles that I’ve won. The small mole on my arm is unique to me – there is no one else like me. My feet are big and my front tooth came in at an angle. The scratch marks on my stomach are proof I’ve worked hard to get some weight off and a reminder that I have more to lose. My thick fingers remind me that I’m changing – they’ve already gone down a ring size and there’s more to come. My mind is filled with a million stories waiting to come out. 

There are days when it’s not about loving my body. There are days when loving my body is difficult. There are days when I want to throw in the towel. 

But I don’t – because there are days when learning to love my body is about liking it first. 

Learning to Love My Body – the Doctor Visit

I had my first doctor visit in two decades (give or take) on Tuesday. I actually expected myself to be a lot more nervous than I was. I dragged one of my friends along with me so that definitely helped. I trusted her and I didn’t feel so alone. Plus, while waiting for the doctor, I had someone to laugh and share jokes with (and play with iOS10 with), so that helped to keep me from thinking so much about it. She stepped out for the exam, but just knowing I wasn’t in it alone and had someone along for moral support did me a world of good. 

The doctor was very sweet and no one made me feel bad about not being to see a doctor in so long. Nor did they make me feel guilty for not knowing much about family health history, other than the bits and pieces my mom told me, but even that wasn’t very specific information. From the moment I walked in, I knew they were there to help me. They weren’t there to judge me, but help to make sure I was healthy. They talked me through everything and made sure I understood what they were asking. I couldn’t believe I had been so nervous. 

I told them I was eating healthier and exercising more than I ever had before. No one felt the need to bring it up to me – it was clear I understood this about myself. I did later find it in the paperwork they gave me when I left. But it was put in there as a note. No need to talk to me about it at the moment – I’m making the healthy choices but if I need someone to ask, I have someone to ask. Blogging about weight comes easier to me than talking to “live people” about it – but blogging about it and learning to love my body has also helped to keep me on track. 

Learning to love my body is about doing what I need to do to be a healthier person. Tuesday it was about taking that step to see the doctor, a place that I hadn’t been to since before I could remember. It was about going to a place I knew would help me get to where I want to be – a healthier me. It was about knowing that if something changes with me, I have a place to go and ask the questions I need to ask. I’ve learned how to take care of my skin. I’ve been learning about what I need to put in my body. It was time to learn about what’s going on inside.

Listening to my body is loving it. Understanding my body is loving it. Learning about my body is loving it. 

Learning to Love My Body – Genes Don’t Dictate My Body; I Do

Genes don’t dictate my body; I do. 

I’ve seen this quote on Pinterest for years. It’s always struck a cord with me, but never as much as when I started to learn about my family health history. My doctor’s appointment is today – actually by the time this is posted, it will be over. I have never thanked myself more for the positive change I’m making in my life as when I was filling out that paperwork and asking my mom all these questions about health history. I literally sat there on the phone wondering how it was possible that so many people in my family had so many problems.

Now to be fair, there are so many ‘half’ relatives throughout my family tree that it’s probably going to be impossible to figure out what I’m genetically predispositioned to through family history allow, but still, it was frightening. 

As I said before, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me, I view going to the doctor for a checkup as a step to a healthier me. I haven’t been to the doctor in 20 years, give or take a couple years, and as a 26 year old that’s pretty scary. I want to get set up with a doctor just in case I need one. If I’m sick, I have somewhere to go. If something feels off with my body, I have someone to ask. At the same time, I have someone keeping an eye on me and helping me to be a healthier person. 

At the same time – nothing that I might be genetically predispositioned to is going to stop me from living a healthier life. I know that heart issues run in my family and I can take a stand and fight against those now by eating better and exercising. The same can be said for weight issues. Some things I can’t control – vision loss is common in my family as well, and while I can’t control what my eyes decide to do in the future, I can visit the eye doctor yearly so that he can see what’s going on inside them. 

I dictate my body. I control it. If I want to be healthier, I can do it. I can help stop the cycle of health related issues. I can set a good example for my younger brothers and for my children one day. I can set a good example for myself. At the end of the day, it’s me against myself. Even when I feel that I’m fighting a losing battle because of what other people in my family have faced, I know that I control my body. I control what I put in it. I control the exercise I do. And I love my body because it proves to me that when I put in the time and effort, that it loves me too. 

I dictate my body – not my genes. 

Learning to Love My Body – Gaining Control

I was at a crossroads. I had to make a choice. Was I going to let everything in the world weigh me down or would I work at becoming the person I wanted to be?

I chose to work at becoming the person I wanted to be. I’m still working on it to this day. I wake up every morning and am still faced with the same choice – let the world win or continue to fight? It’s scary. But I choose myself. I choose myself every single day. I try to make good choices and I think I’m getting better at it, but it’s still a struggle. 

Because getting healthy isn’t just about working out and eating healthy. For me, it’s a bigger issue than that. It’s about taking complete control over my life. I’ve had health insurance for a couple years now, and while I go to see the eye doctor yearly and I go to see the dentist twice a year, I have yet to make it to the doctor.

It’s scary to me and it’s not something I talk about publicly. However, since I’ve started this blog, I’ve made it my goal to talk about everything. Even the things that scare me. 

Let me ask you something – do you want control or not? – Jody

My friend and I were talking about doctors and how I was scared when she point blank asked me that. I didn’t even hesitate. I want control. I want to know what is going on with my body. I want to know if there’s anything I should or should not be doing. I’ve taken the first steps to becoming the person I want to be. I’m eating better. I’m exercising. I’m trying to not follow the footsteps left by family members in regards to health. I know that health problems run on both sides of my family. I know that my dad had a lot of problems with his heart. But I don’t know the full story. There isn’t anyone to ask either. If I want to know, I have to take the first step to find out. It’s the only way I’ll ever know. 

Taking the next step to see a doctor is scary. It’s scares me to think of what might be wrong. Not that I think anything is wrong, but the sheer thought that something could be wrong is enough to keep me up at night. Regardless that I know that God is in control, it still scares me because I don’t know anything about my family health history. I have bits and pieces of information, but nothing real solid. 

For a long time, I made the same statement whenever questioned about my health “with God in control, I have nothing to worry about” and I still believe that is true. I trust God in every aspect of my life, so naturally I trust Him where my health is concerned. However, there is a difference between trusting God and being irresponsible with my health. 

I have been irresponsible with it for a long time. Too long. I’m taking control of my health, my life, my wellbeing. It’s all part of learning to love my body. If I’m responsible with how I treat it, it will help me in my journey to loving it. I need to treat it well. 

I also understand that I am fortunate to be able to do something about it. I’ve had health insurance for several years and never taken advantage of going to the doctor. I know a lot of people aren’t that fortunate. I’ve made the choice to not go when that isn’t even a choice for some people. I can take control over every aspect of my life. 

I’ve always felt not knowing what just easier. It’s easier to not know than to know. If I don’t know, it can’t hurt me. But in not knowing, I’ve been giving up my control. For a young adult who longed to have control for so long, I willingly gave it up to fear. 

I’m still scared. I would be lying if I said the thought of the doctor didn’t scare me to my core. But I know I don’t want to follow in my dad’s footsteps and die when I’m young. I have a lot of things left to do and God willing, I’ll be around to do them all. 

Taking control is loving my body. Letting fear control my decisions is not loving my body. I want my body to love me just as much as I’m trying every day to love it. I’m still going through the ups and downs, but I know I’ll thank myself if I continue to focus on it. It’s a struggle though – a struggle between what scares me and what is best for me. I try to live fearlessly, but sometimes fear wins the battle. Fear just can’t win the war – if fear wins the war, I give fear control and I will continue to fight to never lose control – even when I’m scared. 

I’m learning to love my body by taking control. Taking control in all aspects – even the ones that scare me. There’s still so much more to learn on this journey of learning to love my body. 

To be continued…