Guest blogger
Lauren Lola White
Health Coach & Body Image Consultant
Whiteiristc.com
You wouldn’t have known this by looking at me. I was tremendously skilled at hiding the pain and sadness, as I always greeted everyone with a big smile and a vivacious attitude. As women, we are notorious for taking on so much more than we can handle. It's almost as if it is hardwired from early childhood. It’s not conscious, it becomes our realities, and this became mine at a very young age.
I found myself always wanting to make things right for everyone in my family. I needed to ensure that everyone else was happy, and all their problems were solved. I would actually take on their problems as my own. I mean truly taking ownership of them; physically, mentally and emotionally. Therefore, they became mine to fix. I even found myself taking on their financial worries. I would do anything I could, and for a while, I was pretty good at it.
I lived with these thoughts constantly racing through my mind. Who didn't I call, who didn't I visit, who didn't I check on? There wasn't enough time in a month to accommodate everyone – I have a large family. I slept with my phone under my pillow, so that I could be there for anyone at any time. I felt like a failure anytime I was unable to help, because it was my job to fix everyone’s problems. Many times I sought pray for relief; however, often I didn’t have time to pray.
Don't get me wrong, I loved helping in any way possible, regardless if it were my family, my friends or even strangers. There were no boundaries to whom I willing lent a helping hand. I found myself happily picking up and carrying all the baggage for others. I had to, I needed to, after all that is what made me valuable. With all the baggage I accumulated, who was going to carry mine? This went on for many years, well into my 20’s.
Then one day, I vomited blood as I doubled over in stomach pain. I clearly remember exclaiming out loud, “ENOUGH!” It was on that day that I made a doctor’s appointment. The doctor ran a series of blood tests, ordered CAT scans and an MRI. The poking and prodding made me feel like a lab rat. Upon receiving my results, the doctor told me I needed to lose weight. “You’re clinically OBESE,” he said. “NOOOOO,” never in my life had I thought of myself as obese—I mean that described people who were 300lbs overweight, “that was not me!” I could have accepted being fat or overweight, but obese?! I was devastated. Fast forward two weeks, a phone call came in from the doctor. I required surgery because of growing polyps that could have affected my eye. The next bit of news; they found a mass on my kidneys. Seriously?
I didn't want to die young, or even worse, live a sick and limited life. I wanted a do-over!
I suddenly realized my responsibility in this situation! This was a very sobering thought indeed. However, I didn't know how to stop it. How do you stop a vicious cycle of madness, when you are in the middle of it? I suddenly realized my responsibility in this situation! This was a very sobering thought indeed. I felt trapped. Trapped in my own sick body, and trapped by my own destructive thoughts of worthlessness of effort. I took the time to sit quietly by myself. I knew if anything were to change, it would begin with me. Yes, only I could do this for myself. I would need to place my full attention on me, placing my needs as equally, or dare I say, as more important than the needs of others. This would be no easy feat. It was ingrained in me from a very young age, that a woman lived for her man, and then her children. As a woman, you were last. This was honorable, this is what made you valuable and desirable.
I became determined, however, to change this ideology. Not just for me, but for my sisters, my nieces and one day, my daughter. I turned to the only one I knew would truly help me. And I prayed, like I had never prayed before. On my knees, crying and begging for the answers. I would do anything, whatever it took. I prayed for a second chance, the chance to take charge of my life and regain my health. I vowed, in return I would show my body the honor it deserved.I began with losing the weight. Again, not so easy. I later learned that my body was dealing with such extreme imbalances and adrenal fatigue it was not so cooperative. It was very discouraging attempting diets that worked for everyone else but me. I turned to extreme exercising, running as much as six miles a day. Yet, nothing significant was happening. As you can imagine, the self-loathing talk was louder than ever as I began to hate my body. I did not look the way I desired, I never felt good, and it seemed as if my body was working against me in every way
It was about this time that I met my love. It was amazing and intriguing that he seemed to like me just the way I was. But how could that be? I had already deemed myself unlovable by anyone other than my family. How we met and fell in love is a story within itself. For now, I will just say this man introduced me to a whole new way of caring for myself. Rather than beating my body into submission, he taught me to just start focusing on being healthier and LIVING healthier. Ah, the light bulb moment; you choose your lifestyle. Not just with food, but your whole approach to life. After many months of introducing new foods and eliminating others, trying a couple of different cleanses and taking my exercise routine to a lower level, yes a lower level, I was feeling wonderful. The weight was coming off and my body was reshaping, but most importantly my health was improving. There was still a long way to go, but I liked what was happening.
Everyone is different, and that breaking point for each woman is different. I am happy that I was still young when I reached mine. It was perfect timing in my life to take a new direction. I learned I could either stay down or rise. Rise from within... there was a luminous life waiting to be lived.
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you,” as spoken by Maya Angelou I bear my story with you to learn, share and grow.
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