Let me tell you something – I hate being overweight. It makes me sick to see myself in the mirror. And don’t worry, I’m not looking for sympathy. I just want to be vocal – to find my voice again. It’s been lost in the darkness of my own self-loathing.
I’ve ventured from charismatic and outgoing to shy and reserved – characteristics that have previously only been on my radar when talking to girls (when I was way younger). In other words, I’m a more sedated version of my previous “self” and lacking a great deal of the power and confidence that used to come from being a smart, personable, tall guy.
I’m still opinionated, vocal, and competitive (in the work-place), but I’m lacking in confidence pretty much everywhere else. One of the most attractive qualities, and a necessary one, is one’s ability to overcome. And I lack it. Zilch confidence in my ability to overcome myself.
I was crying the other night, because hurt people cry. I shamed myself for being a man that was losing it like an adolescent in his bedroom, but I’ve decided that I shouldn’t be ashamed of my hurt. I’m just a broken human-being. Someone else may have an addiction to meth or a problem with their anger that leads to abuse, while I have a problem with being motivated to exercise and I eat/drink too many calories. Person A is broken and Person B (me) is broken too, just different types of broken.
I hope that when I do (choosing to believe, in this moment anyways) overcome, I’ll be able to help others. Because I have so much empathy for big guys (and gals) now. I see them and know how much hurt they face when they decide to go with the second or third outfit they tried on, because they look “less fat” in it, or because the others just plain didn’t fit and your arms couldn’t move. I know that from the moment they wake up – it’s a struggle to believe in yourself – to think “I can do this.” I know what it’s like to sit in the manager’s office and wipe sweat from your forehead during a job interview. I also know that they often do everything in their power to avoid mirrors and being tagged in photos on Facebook that aren’t selfies from Instagram. And that your mortal “enemies” are those perfectly in-shape friends posting their gym selfies – #GetFit, because we know they’re so out-of-shape already (yes – heavy, unproductive sarcasm there – but you know EXACTLY what I mean).
All of that is to say, I get the struggle.
Hurting friends and family (for whatever reason – overweight, in debt, broken up with, treated unjustly, etc.), your feelings matter. They have value. And I don’t care if you’re 18 or 70, it’s okay to talk with someone – obviously probably not everyone – about how you’re torn and bruised inside. I hope someone reads this and says, “That’s me, too (in this area or others).” And to them, I want to say that you matter – that I love you – and that I have so much heart-felt fondness for your perseverance to continue the fight of life, even if you lost a battle or two.
Emotion isn’t weakness. We can harness its power for the greater good. Our tears can lead to prayers, anger to (healthy) action, anxiety to planning, and so on.
You are not yet beyond saving. You have yet to be defeated. Time hasn’t run out yet.
Keep running the race. I’m running (slow, but steady) with you. Let’s pray for, and love on, each other.