For
40 years, I wandered alone in the harsh and unforgiving wilderness of
diets and tried desperately to lose weight. I tried every popular fad
diet in an effort to return my body to its youthful shape so that one
morning I could look down and see a number on the bathroom scale that
wouldn’t send me into despair.
The
most memorable diet was the “three-meals-of-cabbage-soup-a-day”
diet—if
only because my kids hated the smell of cooked cabbage.
I
thought if I found the right diet, however bizarre or unhealthy, the
surplus pounds would disappear and I could be happy again. I would
rise each morning determined to follow my strict regimen. By the time
I went to bed, I had engaged in unplanned eating (the name I gave to
eating everything I planned and lots more). The “Just Say No”
campaign didn’t work.
In
retrospect, I can see that I was like the man who, when trying to
unlock his car parked on a dark street, drops his car keys. Crawling
around on his hands and knees in the blackness of the night, he
searches unsuccessfully for his keys. After several minutes, the man
realizes that finding his keys would be easier if it weren’t so
dark. Spotting a lamppost 50 feet away, he walks to the lighted area.
Once again, the man begins crawling around on the ground and
searching for his keys.
A
passerby finds the behavior odd and stops to ask the man what he is
looking for.
When
the searcher explains that he is looking for keys that he dropped
near his car up the street, the passerby looks perplexed. “If you
dropped the keys over there, why are you looking for them here?” he
asks. “Because,” the man replies, “I need light. I can’t find
my keys in the dark.”
This
story explains much of my frustrating effort to lose weight. For
years, I tried and failed. Then I tried again and failed again. I
failed because I searched for the key to weight loss inside the
pantry and refrigerator—where
there were lights—rather
than inside me. I was looking for comfort, reassurance and love in
all the wrong places.
When
I stepped on the scale shortly before my 60th birthday and the scale
broke, my history with failed searches became irrelevant. In a single
moment, I experienced a breakthrough: I adopted a different point of
view. For years, I saw my problem of obesity as one of simply eating
too much. The solution would be to eat less. I was wrong.
Overeating
was not the problem—it
was the solution.
Overeating was an effective (albeit fattening) solution to problems
that were hidden from view. The overeating—which
I brutally criticized myself for—was
my creative way of coping with difficulties.
To
succeed long term, I would have to pinpoint the problems that
ultimately led to consuming more food than my body needed.
Identifying these problems and finding healthier solutions were new
and exciting tasks that required observational skills.
By
paying attention, I discovered that two conditions—physical
and emotional—triggered
overeating. If I became ravenously hungry or overly fatigued, I
misused food as a solution to my physical discomfort. If I became
sad, depressed, angry or anxious, I turned to food for love and
comfort.
When
I looked back at the occasions when I overate, I could see the wisdom
embedded in the acronym HALT,
which advises
those of us who want
to make behavior changes to be vigilant when we are in one of four
dangerous states: Hungry,
Angry,
Lonely
or Tired.
This acronym is used to counsel individuals seeking relief from
excessive stress and individuals overcoming drug and alcohol addition
or other dysfunctional habits including overeating. Food was simply
my drug of choice and the solution to my problems.
Armed
with this insight, my first strategy was to manage myself. I paid
attention to my eating schedule so I didn’t get ravenously hungry.
I noticed if I was angry or anxious. I began reaching out to family
and friends to counter my sense of loneliness. And finally, I decided
to stay more rested.
But
life happens. It isn’t always possible to avoid these conditions.
Despite my best intentions, I can end the day starving, anxious,
isolated or fatigued. But now I am more willing to recognize these
feelings, and I know that they need to be honored with a solution
that nourishes my spirit rather than adds unneeded fuel to my body.
When I am in any one of the four states (God forbid I am in all four
at once), after acknowledging my feelings, I have to figure out how I
can comfort myself in a healthful way.
Sometimes,
I simply need a reassuring conversation with myself, a hug from my
husband or a “walk and talk” with a friend. Other times, I need
to telephone one of my sisters. And when I become overly tired, I
give in to my body and go to bed early because I know that my
optimistic outlook will return in the morning. With this awareness, I
can manage myself through the crisis. And when I do succumb to
temptation and revert to my old ways, I simply pick myself up the
following day and begin anew.
One
of my favorite expressions is “You can never get enough of what you
don’t really need.” I could never eat enough food because food
wasn’t what I needed. Instead of stuffing my feelings, I needed to
face them and find healthier ways to comfort myself. I stopped
looking for love in the refrigerator and cupboard—in
all the wrong places. Instead, I found my personal keys to fitness
and weight loss in the only place they could ever be found—within
me.
I
achieved this insight late in life. Hopefully, you can take advantage
of my delayed learning curve to achieve your weight-loss goals.
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