I really don’t know why this is so hard for me.
Here I am, stuck in the chasm between understanding and knowing. I understand, for example, that there is no magic to losing weight. That there is only eating well, in moderation, and exercising. All of that makes sense. I understand all of the principles behind it – behind complex carbohydrates and blood sugars, behind excess caloric intake and fat storage, behind roughage and hydration and volumetrics. I understand that most people make this all work, in tandem, all the time.
But I don’t KNOW it. I don’t KNOW that I can do it, because I never have. I don’t KNOW the right choices day in and day out – not because I can’t come up with the right answer, but because I willfully avoid making the choice at all. The question of “should” is pushed to the back of the brain almost before it arises. I don’t KNOW any of this because I refuse to think about it. “It’s too hard,” says my willful and wanton brain. “It won’t make a difference,” says my instant gratification-driven self, “you’re already too far gone.”
My level of ridiculousness knows no ceiling.
Every now and then, I am confronted with the truth about these deep-seated illusions I have. The ones that say “I’m okay. I’m healthy-ish.” Like in today’s Health Risk Assessment, where I was given 12 out of 100 points – 100 being prime physical health. TWELVE! That’s so much worse than just plain failing! If 69 points and under are “F” levels, I am pretty much dead already. Heck, my constant presence on this planet may be corrupting those around me, just by my continued breathing.
Ordinarily, I like truth. I seek it out. I would rather have a hard truth than a pleasantry. Truth you can work with.
But when it comes to the truth about something so sensitive, so part of who I am . . . I have to admit that I squirm away from it. And that’s not a characteristic I could ever be proud of. I think of myself as a strong person – cringing away from something this basic, cowering away from it in the corner of my mind . . . that’s just not something I can make gel with who I think I am, much less who I want to be.
I have never been one to pussyfoot around external issues. I KNOW that the best way to deal with a problem is head-on. And, once I have resolved to deal with something, my natural determination and problem-solving skills kick in, and I’m committed. But I’ve never been committed to getting healthy. Perhaps because of fear, perhaps because of laziness. I don’t really know. But I think I need to find out. And then I’ve got to knock down that barrier. Because I just can’t keep running away from this truth. Running away from it will kill me quicker than the weight (and resulting health issues) ever could.