I was at a Weight Watcher’s meeting last week, ruminating over the crappy end to my summer. My husband and I were involved in a freak car accident at the beginning of August, he was injured (he’s OK), I was not. The maze of paperwork has been overwhelming, as has been the mental anguish of trying to put it behind me, which kicked up MS symptoms. My mother gave up driving, and we’ve been figuring out how to navigate a life where I’m her main source of transportation. I’m still spinning my wheels over writing a book based on my columns and blogs. My mother-in-law being in hospice has become a new normal and to top it off my husband will be working overtime indefinitely.
Subsequently, I gained weight after all my efforts this past year to lose it. I felt like I failed, yet also as if I had the right, because YES, darn it, that sixth cookie did make me feel better, as did the ice cream, French fries, milkshake and chips (good balance of salty and sweet). I figured the whole 55 pounds I lost was awash and I should just quit trying.
Not only did I gain weight in the couple months I holed up to lick my wounds, but when I resumed my morning swim schedule, I was further chagrined that it was dark already at six. I usually welcome fall weather and the coziness of the darker days. I felt gypped out of the end of my summer, which led to more pouting, eating, and general melancholy.
The only reason I was sitting in that Weight Watcher’s chair at all, was that the leader emailed me wondering where I was, and encouraged me to return. I was gone for legit reasons, which were not the underlying cause of my absence, but reasons nonetheless: I was out of town one week, couldn’t drive the next due to MS symptoms, was going to miss a third for a doctor’s appointment related to the MS. Then I blew it and told her the day I’d return, so I felt like I had to show up.
I was only half listening to the meeting, when a woman mentioned she was caught in construction on the way and almost skipped the meeting because of it. I perked up. Finally, someone I could relate to, with a complaint I could relate to. I encountered that same construction and almost turned around and went home, too. Then she said something rather genius about the warning sign, “Expect Delays.” She related it to her weight loss journey and it motivated her to continue on to the meeting.
At first I chuckled at the ridiculousness of the idea. I gained weight, my weight loss as I knew it was ruined. I was struggling to regain footing in every aspect of my personal life. I didn’t plan for delays, why should I have to put up with them?
As she kept talking I began to warm up to the idea. I didn’t gain all 55 pounds back, only about eight and I’m still showing up. We completed the paperwork for the insurance claim on the accident, it’s just waiting game now, and everyone lived through it. My mother and I are compromising, as well as seeking other resources for her transportation. My MIL can take all the time she needs and my husband plans to retire soon.
We should indeed expect delays in life. No one promised the road wouldn’t be bumpy, only that it would somehow be passable. I haven’t totally pulled out of my melancholy mood, but I do have a change of attitude. And when the going gets tough, there are still cookies.
Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing and her blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com, on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh by Gretchen Leigh,” or twitter @livewithgleigh. Her column is available every week at maplevalleyreporter.com under the Life section.
