A Hello (and an Apology)
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Two months to the day since I last blogged and I find myself in an odd space.
I find myself looking at SparkPeople and seeing so many new faces on the teams I'd been on (Hello there!)
I find myself needing to come back after a very public 'farewell' post.
I find myself feeling the need to make an apology.
Funny thing about the word 'apology' - it doesn't mean what a lot of us think it does (at least, it doesn't always.)
As Defined by the Googles:
1.a regretful acknowledgment of an offense or failure."we owe you an apology"
2.a very poor or inadequate example of. "we were shown into an apology for a bedroom"
3.a reasoned argument or writing in justification of something
I don't mean to just say that I'm sorry. Because I am sorry; but, I think I need to at least provide a little background.
For those just tuning in (who haven't already just commented for SparkPoints and flung themselves away)
Two months ago I declared I was leaving. And I did it, I left. I left Spark. I left Facebook. I pretty much turned off the world as I thought that I could pour myself into this mold of self-imposed isolation and motivation. And I did it. I failed. Miserably. In fact, the blog I started that lasted for about a week and a half is actually depressing to read. It actually makes me uncomfortable to read it. Because I was literally turning off what had made me so successful to this point: the people in my life.
Part of it was probably because I started to 'check-mark.' I started putting weight back on after surgery and I couldn't seem to find the motivation to put myself back in the game. I started being lax. I started being lazy. I cultivated the most terrible part of my personality: a tendency to be introverted and isolationist. Yes, I do have these delusions that I am my own personal island and that I can do everything I want to alone.
Newsflash: Two months later and I can tell the world one thing conclusively - No, I can't do it alone.
There's a great phrase I've ingrained in my mind: Nobody succeeds quietly or alone.
Say it again: NOBODY succeeds quietly or alone.
It's stunning to think about. There's a certain amount of bravery that comes with not doing weight loss quietly. First, it means you have to admit you have some kind of problem. Maybe you're not attentive enough. Maybe you need to learn to say 'no.' Maybe there are other issues; but, you very publicly and very emphatically need to show in your behaviors that you have a problem. It's saying no to more cake at office functions. It's staying later at work to make up time after you spend too long over lunch working out. It's dedicating yourself to more activity or to more energy focused on you. It's public. It's real. It's impossible to pretend it isn't happening.
When this very public CHOICE to admit and address issues around health and weight happens something even more amazing occurs: you find out who your allies are. You find out who is cheering you on. Not the people who judge you or think poorly of you - but the people who genuinely want you to do what's best for you. These can be friends, family, co workers, or even fellow bloggers. These are the people who lift you from your lows and celebrate your highs. You cannot find these people without crying from the mountaintops, "I am making a change!" These people exist in your life -- you won't find them without making the choice to yell.
I guess I'm back because I realized how much I need the support. I realize how much I benefited from this place. It wasn't a new space I needed - it was the perspective I've gained. Nobody ever succeeds quietly or alone.
For those who made it to the end: Thank you.
For those who can accept my apology: Thank you.
I'm back to daily blogs again. Tomorrow will be Day 1. It's not about the study. It's not about the tech. It's about returning to what I know works. It's about maybe being able to be someone else's support.
It's funny, the best races I've ever had weren't the ones I finished on my own: they were the ones where I was able to both be carried and to help carry those I ran with. There's a metaphor in there somewhere.