Is my weight gain story relatable? Read on and let me know!
Back in the early days of my very basic life, I was a very in shape person. I did my Gil workouts. I danced. I did about 100 crunches before bed every night, tightening and re-tightening my core. I lived by the washboard belly. If you were to tell me that I would be close to 180 pounds in my 40s, I would have never believed it, because in my forties I was going to be:
- The perfect mother, with;
- The perfect kids, with;
- The perfect body.
Since I moved out of my childhood home at 20, I never stopped moving. I lived in NYC for 10 years, met and married my husband, moved with my husband to California for 5 years, had my first baby, moved to Maryland, had my second baby and then we bought our home.
For over 15 years of my life I was constantly on the move. Every decision made fulfilled some childhood dream (NYC, California, just leaving my childhood town). Then it all just stopped.
We slowed down and found a great place to raise the kids, because…kids.
I was not prepared to slow down. I was and am a mover. I need to be thinking about what’s coming next at all times.
I’m antsy. I don’t need to be moving to a new town or a new state, but I do need to be working on something, anything, at all times that can very specifically define who I am.
Slowing down, settling down, raising kids, that brain shift was emotionally and physically altering.
I was losing the self that I created, that I was in love with.
The NYC dance major, the Brooklyn condo owner, hanging out with neighbors at the local Thai restaurant down the street at midnight, the California girl, hiking in the mountains at lunchtime, hitting the fish market in Malibu. All of those things defined me. I loved being that girl.
In reality, it wasn’t the place that defined me, really, it’s what I did in that space that held all the clout.
In Maryland, I just couldn’t figure it out. I would go running, but I didn’t have it in me to try to connect with any local running groups. I wasn’t into the mommy groups, in fact, I really wasn’t into anything.
I just couldn’t wrap my head around this new direction our lives were very quickly taking.
I was just there. Occupying space.
Working. Raising Kids. Rinse and repeat. I was slowly losing everything that made me “me” and was desperate to find something, anything that could help define who I was.
With the usual suspects not sparking joy, I, for some reason that I still can’t remember, decided to start a blog.
My hyper focused directionless disaster.
My first blog was supposed to be about mommy fashion. I was going to blog about all the ways I turned my messy mommy clothes into the coordinated cool clothes that you see on actual mommy fashion bloggers. That lasted less than a week. I have zero fashion. Like, none.
Then I thought I would start blogging about running, exercise and nutrition. I mean, I had run marathons, I was a workout snob since I was 12 and I did eat pretty well, sometimes.
Turns out, I was OK at that. I did write about some running stuff and some green smoothies, but I just wasn’t as into writing about that part of my life as I thought I would be.
Then I thought I would write about being a mom and all that other stuff. Ya’ know, motherhood.
Turns out, my stories were pretty similar to everyone else’s, so there was nothing really original I could report on. I could only confirm, in my blog post, what another mommy blogger wrote about in hers.
No matter the content, it appeared that I did find that little something that I was missing.
The blogging community.
We wrote about our stuff, we followed each other on social media, we commented on each other’s blogs, we were a virtual group of women that read, commented and followed each other’s stories, their lives. I loved it!
I felt like I was a part of something, something I was missing. This, turns out, had its downsides.
Comparison is the thief of…
While I loved and appreciated all of my fellow mommy/or not mommy bloggers, I began to obsess and compare. I obsessed about blog design, about my content, about how many comments I was getting, how many likes on social media.
Soon, in a community where I felt welcome, I soon felt like I didn’t belong.
I had zero direction for my blog other than busting out content that conformed to the content that already existed and received positive feedback. It was insanity.
My family time suffered. My kids, 1 and 4, were crying for mommy’s attention, but all I could think of was my next blog post. I was up early writing content, and up late updating the look of my blog. My mental and physical health started to take a hit.
Here comes the cushion.
It wasn’t long until my mid-section started to soften.
When I stopped writing about green smoothies and running, I stopped caring about green smoothies and running.
There was no time for dinner prep, there was no time for dinner. I ate what I had on hand. I fed the kids, hung out with them for a bit, put them to bed, then went back to my blog. When I wasn’t working on my blog, I was thinking about my blog. There was no longer time for crunches, runs, or exercise.
In the midst of that insanity, a new insanity took its place. One that I was positive would create the woman that I actively wanted to be, that would define me. It gave me focus, it gave me hope, it gave me happiness and when I finally gave it all up, it gave me about 40 extra pounds of baggage.
Read more of my weight story.
Take me back to My Weight Story.
If you’re interested, my original blog still exists. Feel free to visit. I think it’s in Phase 10 of its’ recreation? I lost count. A few years ago I took away all the original content to create a photography blog that would only showcase my images. If you read the “about” section you can see that I was considering revamping that blog, again, into Stuck Ass Down. In the end, I decided to abandon that one altogether to start fresh. I think that’s for the best.