My Big Fat Fear

12 Mar

ButterflyAbout six months ago I started counting down to my 50th birthday. At that time, I had a plan in place to get my home in better shape, to get my finances in better shape, to get my body in better shape and to write a book. I was optimistic and had so much energy to take on all these areas of my life, and I was making great progress until I saw that my birthday was only fifty days away. I had made great progress on my home with de-cluttering and keeping it company ready most of the time. My husband and I had completely changed the direction of our finances and had paid off the last of our credit cards, leaving us debt free, except for our mortgage. Those two things alone should have been cause for great rejoicing, and I was rejoicing, but there was still some things missing.

The first was the book. I know what the content of the book will be, but I just can’t bring myself to get it on the page. I’ve stopped and started so many times. I’ve tried different formats. I know the stories are there. I know the stories are good, because I know how they’ve affected my life and how they can help others in a positive way. I just can’t seem to get them on the page, at least not in a way that feels right.

Then there’s the weight, the stupid weight. I spent most of my young adulthood under 140 pounds, thinking I was fat, and just in case I wasn’t sure about that, I married a man who reinforced my already skewed view of my body. When we split up, I lost so much weight that my doctor threatened to put me on medication, so I began to eat, a little. I maintained my weight and even gained a little bit when I met the love of my life that has been my husband for nearly twenty years now. Then I got pregnant.

My first pregnancy was easy and fun. I gained exactly what I was supposed to, and I felt great. I loved being pregnant, and other than the 23 hour labor and hour and a half of pushing, I had nothing but good things to say about being pregnant. I was playing volleyball three weeks after giving birth and was within ten pound of my pre-birth weight. The extra few pounds really didn’t bother me because I felt good and looked good.

During my second pregnancy, my father was diagnosed with cancer and he died 28 days after my second child was born. We buried him the first week of April and less than four months later, we buried my father in law who also passed from cancer. So in one year’s time, I got pregnant, had a baby and lost both my father and father in law. Couple that with an unquenchable craving for brownie sundaes while I was pregnant and Hello 65 pound weight gain! I was also raising a three year old and coaching a club volleyball team. Life became much more about surviving the day than enjoying the ride.

Then came child number three. If you follow my blog, you know about his unusual and rocky entry into this world and the resulting havoc in my own body. If you don’t regularly follow my blog, you can read the story in more detail at https://karenbemmes.wordpress.com/2012/02/09/my-miracle/. At that point, I basically went into auto pilot mode and being mom became the focus of my life. The “me” part of me got put on the back burner, and to this day, I wouldn’t change that because it was exactly what I needed to do to raise the family I have. I am so very proud of each of them and the choices I made helped them to become who they are.

Now, however, as they get older, I am faced with deciding again who I want to be and who I feel I’m supposed to be. I guess this is what they call a mid-life crisis, and I realized this morning how much fear is involved. Being a mom has been the most fulfilling time of my life. It is a job I feel I was born to do, and I’ve loved it most of the time. Now, though, it’s a job that requires less and less of me, which leaves me with more time on my hands, more questions about my life, and that weight, that damn weight.

This morning I realized, with a lot of help from materials I’ve been reading lately, that the weight I carry is fear. Some of it is the built up fear of the past; fear of something happening to my husband or one of my children, the way something happened to my father and father in law. Some of it is the fear of not having done enough as a mom, even though I know I have done my best in the past and I am still giving it my best every day. Some of it is fear of who I’m supposed to be now, and do I have the talent and skill to be the person I feel called to be. For me, that fear manifests in weight that I wear like a coat of armor, and I desperately want to take it off.

So here I am, baring my soul and my fear to the world, hoping that this is my first brave step to shedding the weight and becoming the person I aspire to be. It seems that every time I “come clean” to my readers, I’m able to figure out the next steps I need to take and they come so much easier. I want to be brave. I want to write a book that will inspire. I want to be healthy and fit, and I want to help as many people as I can become everything they were put on this Earth to become. If we can all do that for each other, we can stop wars, heal our planet and ourselves. It’s a huge undertaking, but I want so much to continue to make a positive difference and be the best I can be, and I want that so much for each of you. So I pray you’ll join me in looking fear in the face however it manifests in your life so we can help each other get to the other side of fear and become the incredible human beings we were created to be. Thanks for being you and have a great day!

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One Response to “My Big Fat Fear”

  1. Nikki March 12, 2013 at 5:19 pm #

    You are such an inspiration!

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