my little motivation

When Katelyn was a brand new tiny fresh little baby, she nursed all the time.  For several weeks my life consisted of sitting around nursing, trying to decide if she had nursed enough, or wondering when Kate would need to nurse next.  Eventually I came up with a good system for constantly feeding my constantly hungry little girl.  I would park myself in one of the black leather chairs of my parents' living room with a nice fresh beverage next to me and little Kate in arms.  She would nurse for an hour, sleep for an hour, and stare at me for an hour.  And I would watch TV and relax.

At the time I didn't fully appreciate it but looking back on the experience I realize how truly blissful it was.  A comfortable chair, a cold drink, and a warm happy baby in my arms.

One time my mom and I were watching an episode of Freaky Eaters on TLC.  Usually the eats are truly freaky: laundry detergent, plastic cocktail swords.  One woman was eating Comet cleaner.

Isn't there a song about that?

This one happened to be less freaky.  The only food this woman could stand was french fries.  She couldn't even fathom having any other foods.  The mere thought of something other that potatoes was revolting and gag worthy.

And get this.  She was thin!

Anyway, these two food therapists (strange to me that this job even exists) came to her house to try and help her learn to eat more foods.  First they tried scaring her straight by showing big giant piles of potatoes.  I guess it was to explain how much starch she was actually consuming.  Next they tried serving her french fries that had been dyed with food coloring to show her that even strange looking foods are edible.  She could not even eat the colorful tubers.  She took one bite of an indigo tinted fry and vomited.

She fought their advice, their words of wisdom, and their help.  Her addiction was just too strong.  Meanwhile, her young daughter was by her side supporting her and desperate to help her overcome such destructive behavior.  The girl was no more than ten and it was obvious that her mother's eating habits were distressing.

I was horrified and thought to myself, "How dare she?!?  For the sake of her daughter she simply must get over it!  She will eat herself into an early grave," I thought.  And then, "Well at least I am a better mother than that."

And then the hypocrisy set in.

A few years ago my mom traveled on her own weight loss journey.  I left for college and found her again with much of her missing, worked off pound by pound at the gym.  What was even more impressive is what she had gained.  She had an entirely new perspective on life.  Her weight loss had turned into more than just numbers and pounds.  It had become about living well and feeling free.  She was different in many ways from the mother I remembered.  She had become a better version of herself with all of the wonderful qualities that I remembered and some upgraded new attributes that I hope to someday gain myself.

She told me that this was the first picture she had seen of herself after her weight loss and she felt like she was sixteen again when she saw it. :)

We were talking the other day about what had sparked that fire in her.  She said that it had started with us.  She helplessly watched my sister and I struggle with the same demons that had attacked her and felt a sense of panic and desperation.  She prayed and pleaded with Heavenly Father that it just wouldn't happen to us.  The pain is so real and so sharp.

Her answer was to deal with her own burden.

The real lesson she learned, however, was that this was her journey and not mine and not Lauren's.  She needed this for herself.  This was her mountain to climb.

Right now I'm doing this for Kate.  I'm fighting tooth and nail for her.

But I hope my mom is right.  I hope someday soon it will be my journey just for me.  It just sounds so liberating.