Gaining While Losing

I’m a perfectionist, and have been since I was very small. Throughout elementary school I was the one winning “scholarship” certificates while other students earned “creativity” or “most improved” or “friendship” awards. While I was very proud of how smart I was, I was worried that I wouldn’t live up to the standards I had set for myself. I loved taking tests because I could always get 100%. Adults would notice this and try to convince me to test for a higher grade level so that I’d be challenged more. But taking tests to be placed in higher reading or math groups scared me, because I was afraid I wasn’t that good, or that I’d stop seeing perfect scores at the top of my papers. This carried me through middle school but they basically forced me to do my assignments out of more advanced textbooks, on my own. I learned to be an independent learner because I was afraid of asking for help - mostly out of fear that someone would think I wasn’t good enough and put me back into the easier stuff. Fast forward to high school, I was the only freshman in my math class, and I was consistently leading the pack in terms of test scores and overall grade. I loved being in charge of my own grade - putting in the work and having my percentage reflect my effort. I replaced my junior and senior years of high school with community college and walked in both graduations two days apart.

But then it fell apart. I was accepted into a university four hours away from my home and gladly took the opportunity, even though I was shaky on what I wanted to do career-wise. But none of my previous experiences could have prepared me for that move, that change, and that level of work I was going to have to put forth. I didn’t get any of the classes I needed that first quarter, and one class that I did get was SO far beyond my level of comprehension that I failed it flat out. And instead of reaching out for help or to change my schedule, I suffered through those first three months KNOWING I was ruining it for myself. Doing so poorly and feeling so alone so far from home and my fiance brought forth a sort of pseudo-depression, I was skipping classes, staying up late and sleeping past noon, eating junk food for meals, and quickly blowing through my meager savings without looking for employment to build it back up again.

By Christmas I had gained twenty pounds. Visiting home was one of the few things I looked forward to while away. I would take the train home, and my fiance would meet me at the platform. Then he’d see me off as I boarded the train to go back.

A failure of birth control saved me that year. I found out about my pregnancy the second week of winter quarter. Because of my poor academic standing, the school cut of my financial aid until I raised my GPA. With no way to pay tuition or housing I decided to move back home. The rest of that year I stayed at home, earning my rent by babysitting my nephew daily. At night my fiance would pick me up and take me to his house where we would watch TV and talk and then we’d grab fast food before he drove me back home. The only real exercise I got was weekly belly dance practice. I ended up gaining 40 more pounds over the next nine months; I weighed 210 pounds at the end of my pregnancy, and delivered a healthy 9 pound, 9 ounce boy.

Those first few months are truly a blur as I adjusted to a lack of sleep. My nephew had started kindergarten so I only needed to get him off the bus and watch him for three hours three times a week, and on Saturdays. Belly dance practice became a once-in-a-while thing until my son was 6 months old, so by January 2010 I had only lost 20 pounds. I started a weight loss blog at that point, but over the course of that year managed to lose exactly NOTHING. My feelings of defeat were crushing, but I refused to be sucked under. I started 2011 with a renewed vigor. I no longer watched my nephew, my son was old enough to walk - he could manage to keep himself entertained long enough for me to pop in an exercise DVD, and he could play nicely in the bathroom while I took a quick shower. I finally had time to focus on me. I did Zumba, and some strength training, and a little running. I also secured a babysitter so I could attend dance practice every Sunday again. I was feeling really good and had lost fifteen pounds by February’s end.

My fiance lost his job at that point. Suddenly, he was home and our income was completely cut. Luckily, his parents were willing to help us with rent, and we had quite a chunk saved so we were doing okay. I managed to lose another fifteen pounds by summer, but at that point we were feeling the pressure of unemployment. He was planning to go back to school full-time in the fall, so I made the decision to find a job. I applied for everything I was qualified for, but only managed a handful of interviews after two months of searching. The answer came in August. I could watch my little sister’s two children and get paid quite handsomely for it. It’s our main source of income now. I watch them nearly fifty hours a week. Fiance has open availibility for classes, I don’t have to leave my son with other people, and he gains two cute playmates!

The problem is, however, that I don’t have much time or energy to focus on me anymore. I’m 22 years old now. Most of my classmates are stille single and earning their bachelor degrees this year. I was pretty much destined to succeed academically and career-wise but I feel some days like I threw it all away.

I’ve gained back ten of the pounds I lost since taking this job. I can’t go back to school yet. I tend to let the housework slide. I tend to sleep as long as I possibly can each morning, instead of getting things done before my son wakes or my neice and nephew arrive. I spend my two days off lounging with my son or at dance practice…etc. I’m sure most young moms can identify with me. I love my son to death but I crave those child-less days sometimes. I miss doing whatever I want without regard to another little person. I take my mothering role very seriously, but I miss the lazy read-in-bed-until-lunchtime days, the drop-of-a-hat dinner with friends, gym visit, afternoon run, library trip. I used to surf the net for hours, window shop at the mall on weekends. I used to have a job, a social life, schoolwork. I have a lot more responsibility now and it’s affecting my weight and my mood.

So I’ve decided to rewire my life, so-to-speak. I’m going to lose all this extra weight I gained feeling sorry for myself at university. But while I lose, I also want to gain. I want to gain peace of mind. I want to gain a real sense of accomplishment, not just in the weight and health goals but also with my son, with my home, with my finances. I want to gain structure - I feel like each day I teeter on the edge of chaos, managing to stay just a step ahead of meltdown and I no longer want to feel that way.

The perfectionist in me hasn’t died - it’s worse than that. She wants everything to be perfect all the time. She wants a spotless home, a perfect body, a strict schedule followed to the tee every day and a successful crochet business with unlimited earning potential on the side. Since everything on that list is pretty much unattainable, the perfectionist in my turns into a “why bother monster”. Instead of dealing with the fact that I can’t have it all, I sulk and procrastinate and do the bare minimum to keep my head above water.

And I’ve decided to change all that. Overall, I want to gain my HAPPINESS back.

I saw a quote today that led me to this goal of losing and gaining. “Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.” ~Carl Bard

The overall goal of this blog is to document my struggles, and perhaps help other women in the same boat juggle weight loss and childcare, housework and leisure time, what works and what doesn’t (for me, anyway!)

I appreciate any input, thanks!