By: Lindsey Doolittle
Read more of her stuff on her blog!
So today I went to a theme park here in Denver with the girls I nanny for the summer, and their mom. It’s been a tradition that every summer we go and spend the day there. As the girls have gotten older, we’ve moved from riding the kiddy rides to more of the big girl rides. We always start off the same way: first the carousel, and then off to the Ferris wheel, and from there the intensity of the rides increases. (Minus the days when the youngest was little and the wildest we tended to get was The Crazy Bus. Heyooooo. Wild.)
So you can imagine our shock, when last year, the Ferris Wheel was our most dangerous ride experience.
We had just circled around several times, as wheels tend to do, when it was finally our turn to exit. Amy went first, holding the door for the girls to get off, and I followed after, helping the youngest off the ride before myself. Only I forgot to hold the door open for myself on the way out. One moment I was following them out and the next thing I knew I was looking at the pavement. My shoe had gotten caught in the little doors on the way out, and I had face planted for all to see. Luckily, the only thing I hurt was my pride. And that quickly wore off with all of us laughing so hard that we had to find the bathrooms. And fast.
This year we celebrated as I crossed through those same little doors unscathed. (I’m sure with everyone else wondering why in the world the girls were cheering on a grown woman for exiting a ride.) Haters.
We had a really good day. But I also had a really hard day.
If you’ve been following my blogs or life since I moved to Colorado, you’ll know that I tried really hard for several years to get my weight and eating habits under control. I watched what I ate big time, I did a shake cleanse, I trained for a 10K, and working out became really important to me and something I enjoyed.
After I moved back home, I entered a really hard season. And when that happens for me, I tend to give up a little. Or a lottle. I ate what I wanted and convinced myself it was fine. I drank more than I had previously. I quit working out. I wanted comfort. I didn’t want to work on myself anymore. I was exhausted.
I tried this past year to get back into working out, but damage had been done. And I found myself in a very vulnerable spot. I’ve always struggled with my weight, my self image, and my self worth. I’ve been trying to work on all of those at once, and it’s exhausting. I feel like when I worked really hard at being healthy, I was only satisfied with people’s approval and the more I gained, the higher I rose. Then I felt like when I went through a season of focusing on loving myself and giving myself a break, I got a little too lax. And I’ve never found a good balance of both.
Recently as I’ve been striving for both, I’ve found myself hitting huge roadblocks. Like reading articles online or seeing pictures of girls my size with all kinds of hateful comments attached. I understand that being overweight comes with certain health risks, and that’s something I’m working towards avoiding. But the comments I’ve read are so judgemental. They’re so void of any kind of understanding of that particular person’s story, and that really stings. Because if they so carelessly fling their words around without any conviction, then imagine what they’d say about me.
It’s such a hard balance. This striving to be healthy, but loving yourself along the journey. It’s really hard. I try to remind myself of what’s true. Of the things that God says about me. That I’m worthy because he says I am. And that also, I’m doing my best right now.
Some days it’s harder to believe that than others. So today, when we went to the theme park, and I couldn’t buckle the seatbelt down (that area is where I hold a majority of my weight), I was mortified. I was sitting next to the oldest girl that I nanny, and I had to get off the ride, because the rest of the seats with the longer belts were taken, and I was too embarrassed. I tried so hard not to let her see my pain, but she knew.
I felt judged and worthless as I left.
Sometimes people’s struggles are visible, and sometimes they’re too deep to see. And sometimes they’re both.
I think the important thing to remember in the midst of them, is to keep trying. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Don’t give up. Don’t allow yourself to wallow into a deep dark place to grief. Do all that you can about it, and then remind yourself constantly that YOU ARE DOING THE BEST THAT YOU CAN.
We continued riding all kinds of fun rides after that. And I winced a little each time it was time to buckle up. But you know what? Those dang things buckled the rest of the time. And we had fun. And we laughed. And we continued to celebrate that I didn’t fall out of the Ferris Wheel this year. And when we got home I cried about it a little bit when I was by myself. And I confessed what I was feeling to a few friends. I told them how it made me feel and that I just really needed prayer and accountability. To do what I can about it to make it better.
And then I felt like I needed to blog about it. Which was and is super uncomfortable for me. It’s not a pretty topic. It’s not something I’m proud of or really anything that I want everyone to know about. But it’s real and it’s raw, and I feel like we all experience those moments, whether they look the same as mine or not. The part where your struggle or your pain becomes visible to others, and you feel embarrassed.
So here’s what I plan to do. Recognize it for what it is. Voice it. Ask for prayer. Sit with it for a while but not wallow. Work out regularly. Watch what I eat closer than I have been. But I’m also not going to let it consume my life. I’m going to remind myself that I’m doing the best I can. Not best myself up on the bad days, and continue looking forward; fixing the things that I can fix at that moment in time.
Thanks for hanging with me through all of that. I really hope that you feel less alone in whatever it is that you might be struggling with. You’re doing the best you can, friend. Remember that.