I had a dream after my last post that had me scratching my head for awhile. Of course once I started writing about it, it all seemed to make sense. You'd think I'd learn to skip the drama and just write, but then I suppose that's why I often see myself as constantly improvising! You can read about the details of the dream here, if you're interested. It won't hurt my feelings if you don't read it - other people's dreams can be such a drag.
I successfully lost weight over a decade ago. I'd always been on the heavy side of normal, but after college I moved in with my boyfriend, T, who was a fabulous cook, and gained lots of weight. Probably had something to do with moving away from home and becoming an adult with a huge helping of depression throw in too. But I got into therapy, decided to start liking myself (oh look! another lesson I seem to have forgotten along the way!), and slowly took off the weight. I looked and felt better than I ever had.
T and I got married and moved to another town, which in hindsight was probably more stress than my few months in therapy had really prepared me for. At the time it just felt like I was losing my mind. I left T and promptly went to work keeping the weight off by starting to run and drinking my dinners. When I went back to therapy my weight crept up a little, but it seemed to be in a healthy way. Then T took his own life a few weeks before our divorce would have been final.
I didn't care about my weight continuing to creep up in the next year or so. Well, I cared, but I also realized that working through my grief was my priority. Over 13 years have passed since I was widowed. I met and married a wonderful man. I had two children. Still my weight continues to creep up.
And then I had this dream.
For all these years my guilt has literally been weighing me down. And I think it's time to start forgiving myself, time to start letting go.
