Tao and Zen

I was talking recently to one of my colleagues about the trip to Bangalore, India that I'm now not taking, and he was asking if I minded, knowing that I'd originally been quite positive about the trip. However, coming back from Britain I've had a really hard time recovering from jet lag, mostly because I really overdid it while I was there (mostly work-wise).

So I said, "Well, I don't know...I mean, I have no immune system really, and I'm so afraid that I'd pick up something there and I'd be really sick..."

And then I realized what was really bothering me, and I felt horrified, but I said it anyway.

"I've gained so much weight this past year," I said. "And I was so uncomfortable in the plane to and from the UK, and I was just dreading being so uncomfortable in the plane for so long..."

I'd made a commitment to myself, years ago, that I would never let my weight interfere with my life. I've known people who made excuses as to why they couldn't do this or that -- biking, camping, traveling -- due to their weight, and I'd vowed I wouldn't do that. And here I was, saying that my weight made it too uncomfortable to travel someplace that I'd been excited about.

The funny thing is that I'm not (yet) at my top weight. I've weighed more than I do now, at least a little -- well, okay, I don't actually know that because I haven't stepped on a scale, but I'm fairly sure that I'm at least ten pounds under my top weight. However, I feel ickier than I remember feeling when I was at that top weight. I feel enormous and uncomfortable and unhealthy and bloated and...

And the thing is, I've wanted to keep on my plan the whole past year. The one thing that is true about me is that I don't deal with stress well, in terms of diet, and 2004 was a very stressful year. Ultimately it was all good stress -- any learning situation is good -- but it was a lot of stress. It began with recovering from major surgery, and it ended with my leading a major initiative at work. In between the two, things just went nonstop. And I just kept gaining weight. It's the one year since 1999 when I didn't lose any weight all year -- I just gained and gained and gained.

The other day I said to my partner Chris, "Everything about my life is absolutely wonderful. Absolutely wonderful -- everything except my weight." But you know, I can say this but at the same time I know that if I've gained all this weight there is something going on in my life that is not good.

When I look back over the past year, there was one thing that fairly consistently influenced me in a negative way. It's not the only thing that caused me stress -- there were several different things that did so, in both positive and negative ways -- but it was the one thing that pushed my buttons all year long and was behind a lot of the less pleasant things that I had to deal with. I hesitate to name it because it would sound as if I were demonizing someone, and frankly, that's never been my intent. But on the other hand, to say "there's something that's on my mind" and then not to name it...that's not right. So here I go.

My issue this year has been my ex. Not him personally, but my need to get past the things that, from my point of view, happened in our relationship. For various reasons, and I don't blame him for this, it's been difficult. It's not worthwhile to go into all the ins and outs and recriminations and misunderstandings -- that's not the point. The point is that, for various reasons, I found myself very concerned, over most of the last year, with what he had to say about me.

And that's not useful. My opinions, feelings, and beliefs about our relationship are mine. His are his. We have our own truths, our own realities. We have our own lives. He's doing some really awesome things with his. I am doing some really awesome things with mine. But we're involved with each other in a way that we shouldn't be. We care far too much about what the other person says, or might be saying, about us. We haven't let go.

I can't make anybody else's decisions, but I can make decisions for myself. I have to let go. I had succeeded in letting go, actually, to a large degree, but then I made a decision that resulted in my getting re-involved, emotionally speaking, and I can date the worst of the weight gain -- the last six months -- from then. And that's just wrong. It's not his fault; it's mine. I am responsible for my own life, my own body, my own health. And what's right for me is to finally just let it go. I was with this man for seven years, and some of it was great and some of it wasn't, but I am in a fantastic place, I have a truly beautiful life, I'm really happy, and nothing that he thinks or says about me, or that I think or say about him, should matter to the other.

When it's all said and done, we're both people, nothing more and nothing less. We love, we live, we make our way through the world. Whatever happens to us in our lives will be what we've made of them. And that makes it all good.

I think once I've finally walked away, without looking back, I'll have leapt over the last obstacle in my path. It's not him. It's me. I am the obstacle.

And I think that at long last, once I have leapt it, I can be happy, and healthy, and wise.