I can’t sleep.
I don’t want to be awake right now. I don’t want to be sitting here, clicking away at these keys as quietly as I can – my husband is asleep in the other room and I’m sure that he appreciates my attempts at being discreet. The truth is that I’m awake because I’m feeling a bit defeated. I was laying in bed, trying not to feel discouraged. Trying to pray, trying to find the words and they just weren’t coming. God knows this to be true. He knows what is on my heart. This isn’t a post asking for pity, this isn’t a post fishing for compliments. In fact, I truthfully don’t wish to receive any. I just want this to all be what it is. I have almost always been that way, when I hurt, when I’m pensive or just plain old feeling blue, I just like being alone. But I also felt like I’d never sleep if I couldn’t get out what I wanted.
I’m having severe body image issues as of late. I’ve been hitting the gym for the better part of six months. Not much has changed. Barring the thoughts of wondering if there is something else going on that is underlying, I’m kind of not sure what to think. I haven’t been hitting it hardcore, but I also know that I’m doing much more than I was before regular workouts. I used to not just be thin, I was fit. I was strong. I was lean. I was capable, gosh darn it. I could run, I could jump, I was quick. Now, I’m soft. I’m doughy. I’m weak.
I recovered so quickly after having Jerry. The 50 plus pounds of weight I put on with him fell off within the first two weeks, most of it being water weight. I wasn’t in the best of shape before having him, but even after giving birth I was left at a much better weight than before. This did not happen after Clara. And after nearly a year and a half, I’m sometimes crippled with how I feel about how I look at myself in the mirror. It’s hard. It’s hard when your gym time depends on children, and it’s harder still when your diet sometimes namely consists of what’s easiest or what they eat (PB&J, anyone?) But I can’t sit here and make excuses. And I’m also not going to sit here and pretend that I am the only woman on God’s green earth to feel this way about herself. To shudder when she looks at herself in the mirror and think of what was.
I also don’t want to sit here and lament the pains of having children. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Even if in some ways it has “rearranged” my body in some not so pleasant ways. I know I shouldn’t be preoccupied with a number on the scale. I know I shouldn’t be uptight about the number sewn into the lining of my pants, but it would be a lie to pretend that it doesn’t wring my insides sometimes. Adriana Lima hired a personal trainer, worked out 4-6 hours each day three weeks after baby and walked the Victoria Secret catwalk during this year’s “fashion show,” using that term loosely. At first, I was a little irritated and aghast that a mother could stand to leave her baby home after just three weeks, and to spend a significant chunk of her time in the gym. And even though this isn’t something I would ever consider doing, I have to wonder what kind of determination she has. She looks fabulous. And she did it on her own. I don’t care who you are, 6 hours in a gym a day is some determination.
I’m a year and a half out, and I don’t know what’s what. I don’t know what I’m aiming for. I don’t know why I’m sharing.
I’m going to hold on. I’m going to ask that God make my insides beautiful, because that is what matters. Trust me when I say that beauty is fleeting. This body, it’s fleeting. But my heart, that is what I give over and over, everyday. That is where I would rather God do a makeover. Even if nothing else changes.
And even if it hurts because what I want to see change doesn’t change.