An Act of Rebellion

19. July 2010 · Write a comment · Categories: Uncategorized · Tags: , , , , , ,

I fear that my body will win.  I fear that it will do as it pleases, even if it does not please me.  I have viewed my body as my enemy for the last two and a half years.  Whether it is conscious or unconscious, my body and I have been at odds ever since I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes back in February of 2008.  It betrayed me.  It stopped working in my favor and is now working against my every effort to take care of it and make it healthy.

I can’t take diabetes into my own hands because the fact of the matter is that I simply cannot get rid of it.  But what I can and will take into my own hands is my weight.  Well, I think I can at least.  I wasn’t really ever super aware of my body, how much I weighed, what parts of my body I didn’t like, where I gained weight, etc. until my diabetes made me pay attention to my body at all times.  Now, I know every convex and concave curve on my body in detail.  I know how each item of clothing fits, and I am brutally aware of which parts of my body gain the weight.  And what I know of my body, I don’t like.

So, I’m making a change.  I joined a weight loss program.  For 17 weeks, I have to weigh in twice a week, keep to a strict menu, exercise regularly (which I do anyway), drink tons of water, drink hardly anything at all, and eat almost no dark chocolate (worst part of the whole thing!).  And I’m expected to lose 1 to 2 pounds a week.  Needless to stay, I’m afraid.

I realized what I am actually afraid of today when I went to weigh in.  I’m afraid that my body will win.  That it will spite me even still.  That no matter what I do, no matter how active and devoted and disciplined and motivated I am with this program, I won’t lose a pound.  I didn’t lose any weight when I found out I had a bajillion food allergies and cut out all gluten, dairy, eggs, nuts, beans, soy, sugar, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc.  Not a pound.  Actually, I gained 8 pounds!  I was PISSED!!  I don’t lose any weight when I run 5 miles 3 times a week.  Nope, nothing.  So I’m afraid that I won’t see the change in my body that I’ve been longing for, crying for, wanting so badly.

So what do I do with that fear?  Well, I’m sure it will frustrate the hell out of me.  I’m sure I will cry a lot through this process of prospected weight loss.  I’m sure I will probably hate my body a little bit more before I start to like it.  But one thing that I realized that I need to do before anything: ask the Lord to walk me through this.  Ha, that adds a whole different dimension doesn’t it?  Well, read on to the next paragraph…

The title of this post: an act of rebellion.  Do I believe that I am an image-bearer of God?  Do I believe that I am fearfully and wonderfully made?  Will I do as it says in Isaiah 51–to look to the Rock from which I was cut?  And who do I believe this Rock is?  Do I believe that the function and shape of my body has a divine purpose, and can I even be satisfied in knowing that it does?  Or is this journey through a weight loss program just an act of rebellion towards my maker?  If this body that He has made is not looking like I want it to look despite my efforts thus far, am I just taking things into my own hands?  It’s a similar situation to when I was dating this really really great non-Christian guy who a couple weeks.  Was I willing to rebel and take my love life into my own hands because I was sick and tired of being single?  Boy, I’m sure glad I didn’t take it into my own hands!  That would have spelled disaster with a capital D.  What I know is that I need to be prayerfully walking through this journey and looking to Him to be the rock from which I was cut and to be my eyes when I look at my reflection.

Psalm 13.

(Side note: I also keep a blog about living with diabetes.  If you’re interested, you can keep track at http://blog.oregonlive.com/diabetes)

I’m Not Mississippi

12. July 2010 · 2 comments · Categories: Uncategorized · Tags: , , , ,

After many years of insecurity and feeling like I never quite fit in with certain Portland crowds, something crossed my mind on Saturday night that conquered those uncomfortable years and brought me some liberty in that area.

I’ve been up to Last Thursday on Alberta Street a dozen times or so and always have a good time but for some reason, I always walk around feeling like I’m not wearing skinny enough jeans, or cool enough shoes, or high-waisted enough skirts. (For those non-Portlanders who are reading, Last Thursday is a combo of neighborhood street fair and gallery hop where the galleries are local artists that line the street.  It’s a VERY crowded and VERY eclectic scene but really fun too.) I never really felt like I fit in at First Thursday either.  (Same idea as Last Thursday but in a different neighborhood and a little more dressy/urban.)  There are actually many neighborhoods and scenes in Portland that leave me feeling like I need to change my appearance and ensemble.  I’ve tried to wear clothes and do my makeup fit the mold, but the truth is, that just made me feel even less like myself.

There are places, however, that make me feel right at home, super comfortable and in my element.  Any guesses?  Yep, you got it: wine country.   I spent all day Saturday up in Ridgefield, WA (just 30 minutes or less north of Portland) wine tasting with my friend Stephanie.  Beautiful rolling hills, farm land, vineyards, and even some cute ponds.  I didn’t have any insecure feelings all day long.  When we got back to Steph’s house, her husband said that he was heading down to Portland to meet Steph’s brother and sister-in-law at a bar on N. Mississippi Ave.  We decided to meet them down there too so Steph and I hopped in my car and headed south, back into the city.

Now Mississippi Street is a slightly toned down version of Alberta and on this particular Saturday, Mississippi was having a Last Thursday of its own called the “Mississippi Street Fair”.  It happens once a year and we just happened to stumble across it on the very day it was taking place.  The entire street was blocked off and for 5 blocks there were local artisans, food carts, social rights organizations, and musicians up and down the entire street.  It drew much of the same crowd as Last Thursday would, and my eyes definitely wandered off into the fashion of the crowd: high waisted skirts and cute boots.  Sunglasses and tattoos.  Gaged ears and screen printed tees.  I was wearing a simple corduroy skirt that I’ve had for years and a floral tank from the Gap.  Nothing too trendy or hipster, but oddly enough, I felt super comfortable and okay.  It was a different feeling than the one I usually have at those types of events.

It was when I got back in my car to go home that I had that aforementioned liberating thought:  I don’t have to fit in with the Mississippi crowd because I’m not Mississippi.  And I don’t really want to be.  I’m a Dundee/Carlton/Dayton girl.  I’m a country girl.  Willamette Valley girl.  Vineyard and winery life girl.  Rolling hills of Ridgefield girl.  And boy does that feel good to proclaim and recognize.  It feels awesome to get to the point in my life where I know who I am, who I’m not, who I’m becoming, and being okay and secure in that.

I guess this is all part of the maturing process.  And as life goes on and I get older and closer to God, it’s easier to see who He is making me.  And that’s the most secure place anyone can be.

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