Archive for the The Journey Category

I forgot to plan dinner yesterday. In Wolfinbarger-land, this is as much of a bad omen as dead birds falling out of the sky or say, the Missouri River turning to blood. Maybe it’s because I’m burned out with cooking(okay, there’s really no maybe about it). But the creatures I live with must eat, so my disposition toward preparing grub bears little relevance when confronted with rumbly, grumbly tummies.

I planned to stop by the store(for the umpteenth time this week) and pick up something quick and easy. But there was traffic. And a car accident. And I didn’t feel like it. So I decided I was the queen of my castle and fairly creative to boot, so it would be easy to walk to the freezer, pull out a frozen brick of something, and combine it with a carbohydrate doo-dad, and throw in some veggies for garnish. But I got sidetracked with doggies and a fourteen-year-old whining creature from the black lagoon who was squealing that life as we know it would end if he didn’t have sweat pants and a new book bag immediately. On a normal day I would dispatch all of these distractions with a quick whip of my snarky tongue, but yesterday I was feeling a little off my oats. In truth, I had the terrible, horrible brain fog of doom. And so all I could do was stand there staring while drool dripped off of my lip as I contemplated which problem to address first. Except that by that point my brain was so scrambled I couldn’t remember my name. You think I’m joking.

And right about the time I figured out which problem was most important(FOOD!) my husband walked in the door. Which is just as much of a bad omen, as say, dead bodies popping out of the ground, because if I don’t have dinner solved by the time he walks in with his “I just laid 100 yards of flooring and I want my dinner now” look, we are ordering takeout. Before I could say, “I’m not sure what to do about dinner” he said, “Little Ceasars or Imo’s.” He brushed his hands together in that gesture that signifies “problem solved” and then dispatched the whining teenager, and gave me action items for the other problems I have not mentioned on this blog. Hunger turns him into a very efficient problem solving machine.

Still, I stood in the hallway and tugged on my lip. Because I don’t consider carry out pizza as real food. In fact, I would rather saw my body in half than offer such nutrient deficient quasi-food to the precious fruit of my loins(my children). So I proposed a compromise. We could eat at the Oriental Buffet. They could eat friend whatch-a-macallits with their salad and I would find veggies and protein of gladness. But this suggestion went over as well as a beer at a wine bar, and I was voted down quicker than you can say burgers and fries. And because three hungry and whiny boys are worse than chickens who have recently been recently deprived of their heads, I suggested an economical and “not-as-bad-as-pizza-or-burgers” option; Firehouse Subs.

And dinner was settled.

Or so I thought.

So we all piled in the car and the little one said, “I’m starving!” and the bigger one said, “Me too!” And my husband promptly got us lost in some back-end neighborhood by way of a short-cut his wife told him not to take. And all the while I’m thinking about how I can’t eat Firehouse Subs because I don’t like their salads. But surely I can come up with a compromise. Right? It’ll be easy. Just read through the menu and determine a healthy option and everything will be good. Except my food neurosis is no match for foggy brain. Especially when the little one is screaming, “Chips! I want chips!” and the bigger one is whiny-whispering “I want chips too. And soda. Mom, I want soda.” But EVERYONE knows we don’t drink soda because it erodes tooth enamel AND because it is bad for our bodies. You see, my children know about all of my nutritional proclivities and once given “the look” know what the answer is before I utter it out loud. And so I resolved to not eat because the menu confused me.

So the girl behind the counter was like, “Are you ready to order or what?” And then(as if things weren’t confusing enough) I whipped out my coupon(because I’m trying to save money) and that is when the world imploded. Because everyone knows my husband DOES NOT do coupons and WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE US DRIVE ALL THE WAY HERE AND YOU’RE NOT EATING?!

And the poor girl behind the register who makes minimum wage is giggling inside even though she is externally pretending to be merely bewildered by our odd behavior, but I am RESOLUTE. I am not eating and we ARE using a coupon. And suddenly our fun trip out to eat dinner has turned into the trip to hell by way of the Ghoul of Unfettered Emotion, by which we are all being haunted.

And in case you’ve lost track here is exactly why:
1) The little one gets chips and soda with his meal but the older one doesn’t(because the older one must learn early in life that life is not fair, and what better way to learn than in line at Firehouse Subs?)
2) The Dad wanted Imo’s and pajamas, but was trying to mollify the foggy-brained wife who couldn’t make a decision as simple as matching her shoes, and therefore ran everyone around on a wild goose chase.
3) The wife just wanted some veggies, darn it! But fast food restaurants don’t offer them unless they come in a can and she doesn’t eat things from cans because there is nominal nutritional value.

And this is how The Wolfinbarger Family entered into the Twilight Zone episode where everyone is so mad that they turn into werewolves and eat each other. The end.

But seriously. We were angry. And once you get that angry, there are no words that will make it better. Only time and (throwing things while cursing) deep breaths will ensure no one gets hurt. So we drove home in silence while I balanced the meatball subs on my lap because we were too upset to eat at the restaurant in front of people who might silently judge our weirdness. And I was sad. Because I felt like the whole situation was my fault. Why do I have to be so neurotic about food? Why didn’t I plan dinner? Why didn’t I feed my children the corndogs in the freezer? Who cares if they ate corndogs last night? Not them!

And that is when I decided to follow my own advice and practice the discipline of not speaking out of anger. I decided not to break any windows or stomp. I decided to hug my boys and extend grace by way of biting my tongue. I even decided not to get divorced because we couldn’t eat dinner as a family without me eating anything because the minimum wage worker was silently judging us. And do you know what? It was really, REALLY hard. But I did it. And you can too.

Someday there is going to be a moment where you want to lose your cool and explode at the people you love most in the world because somebody left a blue crayon in their pants, and it went through the dryer and now your favorite blouse is sky blue with dark, splotchy patches. And you paid $57.63 for that blouse and you are ticked off. But you are going to look into the bright green eyes of your precious little one and say, “I love the color blue, but you know what? I love you more.”

No matter what you think, learning discipline is not like living in a wasteland, it’s more like climbing a mountain. There is great beauty, not only at the top, but on the path along the way. When we think about addressing our vices, it feels risky–maybe even terrifying. But I propose that NOT dealing with our vices is the real wasteland–a place of desolation, and–might I risk saying–horror.

It started with a thought. But the thought was like a pinprick. I waved it away but the sting remained. Even worse, the thought had planted a seed which was starting to grow. The more I tried not to think about it, the worse it got because I was worrying over making it go away. Worry quickly turned to planning how to resolve the problem. Once the plan was hatched, I did not want to abort the mission. The next thing I knew I was standing in the candy aisle at the grocery store staring at the Nestle Caramel Treasures–brimming with expectation and shame. I was conscious of every person that passed behind me. Did they see me as I saw myself? A fat, pathetic loser? Did they loathe me as much as I did? But the desire was too strong. I could not thwart it. So I grabbed the bags(yes–several bags) and carried them as inconspicuously as I could. I stood in line. I dared not look the cashier in the eye as I greeted her and paid for my booty. That’s how I felt–like a pirate with stolen treasure. Everything inside me screamed that it was wrong and I needed to quit my terrible habit. But the need was so strong that it reduced the self-loathing thoughts into bite sized pieces I could swallow with my chocolate, piece by terrible piece. I told myself it was the last time. Until the next time. When the process started all over again.

Some people reading this will not relate to compulsive behaviors that prod and poke at the mind. But even if they do not, they have probably experienced the desire to do something they know is wrong and have fulfilled that desire against their better judgement. They deal with the consequences, whether it be minor or major. We all do it. It is an inevitable part of the human condition. We are all fragile in our attempts to deny our impulses whether we want to admit it or not.

This blog post is my weak and very human attempt to describe my approach to discipline. I am not a nutritionist or a physical fitness expert. I’m not even a motivational speaker. I’m just Margaret, a I compulsive thinker and eater. And this approach is what I have learned thus far.

Let’s begin.

Determine Your Goal. Goals are not wishes. Your goal must be something attainable. If you are training to run a marathon, you don’t get up one morning and try to run 26 miles having never even run one. Do not set yourself up for failure. That breeds discouragement and you will have enough of that without supersizing your doubt. Facing your giant–whatever that may be–can be extremely intimidating. Which leads me to my next point…

Face your fears head on. Admit it, you’re terrified. It’s okay to be afraid. Just don’t pretend your fears don’t exist. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life as my first attempt at ridding my life of sugar. I literally could not envision a life without it. Which leads me to my next point…

Be imaginative. Maybe you don’t have an artistic bone in your body. Maybe your idea of creativity is dotting a piece of paper with glue and adding glitter. The most important thing about imagination is that you have one and that you use it wisely and with good humor. When you first begin to practice discipline your brain will always return to the thing you are trying to avoid. Therefore you must fill that empty space with something else. I always read suggestions like, “Instead of eating dessert, go for a walk” or “Instead of eating dessert, pick up a fun hobby.” As if that would ever stop me from dealing with my food issues. Hunger will come and I needed a creative way to deal with it. So I have tried to have fun by looking up healthy recipes in books from the library. I have made sugar-free recipes and given myself the freedom to fail(some were awful). I have shopped at the store and picked out fruits I never tried before just for the new experience of tasting them. A friend once told me avocados were so good that “you could peel and eat them plain”. (I just wish she had told me you had to wait for them to ripen first.)

When the going gets tough, stand firm. I’m talking about fists balled up, teeth gritted, crouching tiger pose, kick-some-ass resolve. Nothing and no one is going to talk you out of it. Changing bad behavior is going to hurt. But here’s the deal… which pain is worse? The pain of remaining where you are, or the pain of going on a journey that could change your life? I used to hate exercise. I do not use the word hate lightly. I mean it with every sense of the imagination. When I took my 310 pound body for a walk around the block at a moderate pace, it was brutal. It was also a wake up call. But the exercise was not a big deal compared to building healthy eating habits. That was a whole other ball of anxiety. I remember when my friend at work made cookies and invited me to eat some. I think I had been sugar-free for only a few weeks. I said no and it hurt her feelings. Then I felt guilty. Because I really wanted cookies. But(and here’s where the imagination is key) I followed my behaviors to their legitimate end. I knew if I ate 2 cookies, I would want 4 cookies, and then 4 or 12 more. I knew I couldn’t eat just 2. So I decided not to eat any. And I sat in my cube and cried. And while I didn’t believe in that moment that I could live a healthy lifestyle for the rest of my life, I knew that I could live one day without cookies.

Chart your victories. Victories are memorable but they fade on the days you want to give up. Sometimes walking on the right path can be boring. Celebrate anyway. The past week I have been faithfully exercising, eating right, and resting in the proper proportions. I have lost zero pounds. I choose to celebrate my lack of failing anyway. I’m not talking about going on a bender(don’t do that!) It’s more like a mental pat on the back. It’s a “Hey, Margaret! You rock!” If you reach a milestone on your journey, by all means go out and dance(unless you are trying to wean yourself off of that behavior). But do something to recognize your achievement.

Prepare to fight again. The journey to learn discipline never ends. There will be good days and there will be bad days(even bad weeks and months). Prepare mentally to face your weaknesses. This can be as simple as understanding that temptation to return to old behaviors will happen, or it can be as practical as not keeping bad habit paraphernalia around. I avoided the candy aisle for nearly a year when I was building new habits. I had to. I just didn’t trust myself, and knowing that was a solid protective measure that kept me safe.

One caveat… people might think you’re weird. I have had to make peace with the fact that some people think I’m strange. In a culture that encourages indulgence as some sort of sacred right, self-discipline is looked upon as odd. But I’m not worried about what other people think. They don’t live inside my head. I do. And I’m the one who has to live with the consequences of my behaviors.

Before I knew anything about discipline, I thought of it primarily as punishment. But I have come to understand that discipline actually protects me. By dealing with the short term pain of culling bad behaviors, I have gained long-term satisfaction and pleasure because I have gained confidence that I can succeed. Or put another way, dealing with the little pain(diet and exercise) on the front end is better than dealing with the big pain(overeating and laziness)on the back end(pun intended).

Discipline is a tool, and when used properly, it can transform your life. For me, discipline has always been about bringing me closer to God. I viewed my intemperate lifestyle as a hindrance to spiritual growth. Not that I was trying to be some type of “holier-than-thou” person. Nothing could be further from my actual intention. It’s just that I had read a passage of scripture that indicated to me that as a follower of Christ I was set free from my sin, and I wanted to fully explore what that meant. After all, how could I really be free when I couldn’t stop eating to excess? For me, practicing discipline is part of the process of building a closer relationship with Jesus–who I love and adore.

I also wanted to understand what it meant to be “more than a conqueror”. (Romans 8:31-39) Before I began my journey to live a healthy lifestyle I felt like anything BUT a conqueror. I would not say the same today, though it’s quite obvious to me that I don’t have it perfected just yet.

So that is my approach to discipline. It’s not perfect and I’m sure the experts could poke a million holes in it. I probably missed something somewhere along the line, and I give myself this out: I’m still learning. And for that, I believe God gives me more grace. Today, I pray he give you more grace in your attempts as well. After all, if you are reading this you are probably human just like me. And if you’re not, well, that is another issue entirely.

Romans 8:37-39

37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[b] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Discipline is the gift we give ourselves in order to restrain our impulses, and by which we measure our success or failure toward any given goal. Without discipline, we flail around in our flesh, seeking satisfaction by whimsy while we glory in the hollow nature of our standards. In the end we achieve only the failed fantasy by way of wishing ourselves silly. A byproduct of this behavior is rationalizing our behaviors while perpetuating a lie. Regret and disappointment are sour bedfellows for those who chart an undisciplined course, and if left unchecked they morph into bitterness, resentment and secret shame.

I don’t play the lottery or gamble. There are several reasons for this, but the main reason stems from a terrible experience I had as a child. I went to a small private school, and at the end of my 6th grade year we went on a field trip to The President River Boat. Like any adolescent, I was very excited to skip class in order to cruise the river. I stepped onto that boat as if I were stepping foot on The Titanic. It was glorious! I remember the red velvet carpet and the shimmering glass in the windows. I remember the wood-paneling in the halls, and the winding stair case between levels. We had full range of the vessel, which was a freedom I was infrequently afforded at that period of my life. I ran back and forth, inside and out, round and round with my friends. And while engaged in that activity, I noticed–and was quickly captivated by–the machine that offered up stuffed animals for a quarter by way of a small mechanical crane.

The only money I had was the $10 my sweet mother had given me for lunch. I hardly remember that wrinkled ten dollar bill for how fast I exchanged it for a $5 bill and some quarters. I rationalized that I could spend a dollar or two, walk away with a toy, and still have money for the spectacular meal (a juicy burger and a pile of fries) all the kids were going to buy for lunch. But I was so intent on winning a precious stuffed animal that I kept chugging quarters into the machine until all I had left was a measly two or three bucks. Even then I didn’t despair. I told myself that my teacher would be more than happy to give me a few dollars to make up the difference because no adult would dare let a poor, innocent child go hungry.

I was shocked when my teacher declined my request. I began to ask my friends for extra change, but they all said no. And so I was left with the churn of the paddlewheel as it rotated in sync with my churning stomach, and a seemingly endless amount of hours between myself and dinner with only a stale soft pretzel to assuage my pain. The day suddenly went from luxurious to cold, gray and bitter. I spent the rest of my hours aboard that boat feeling as if I had landed in prison and I had only one thought, “I just want to go home.”

As I look through the lens of time I realize that even if I had I won the stuffed animal, I still would have been miserable because I still would have been hungry. That toy was an idol I worshipped above all else and reaching it would have given me a moment of satisfaction, but then the reality of my situation would have eclipsed that pleasure. How do I know this? Because I have spent years chasing pleasures that never fulfilled the longings of my heart.

There are many ways by which people measure success. Be it weight loss, monetary gain, beauty, rank or title, a goal achieved is a reason to celebrate. But I have discovered that discipline is a far more powerful motivator. Discipline has taught me who I am and knowing myself is important. Learning to curb the behaviors I thought defined me showed me I am not a slave to my desires because I learned that my desires lie to me.

Live abstemiously. Living otherwise – what Pascal calls ‘licking the earth’ – imprisons us in a tiny dark dungeon of the ego, and involves us in the pitiless servitude of the senses. – Malcolm Muggeridge

I have always loved to eat. As a child I sought out sugary treats to fill the vacancies in my heart. It’s a tired, old story, but it is mine. If forced to choose between fudge and human companionship, I would probably have chosen the fudge. Holed up in a dark room, with a romance novel to fulfill my relational fantasies, I could indulge the senses and stave off the real world for a while. Our culture pokes fun at this practice, as if such hedonistic activity is a natural occurrence and therefore insignificant. This behavior is condoned for some. After all, if one doesn’t wear the visage of unrestrained passion, and does not offend the senses of others, have at it. But this is a lie too. This behavior—regardless of perception—is a corrupting practice. When we seek only to gratify ourselves, we in essence please no one. One can apply this logic to any vice. Taken to the extreme, every vice has the capability to destroy us, whether it be gluttony or exercise, and these are mild examples.

I am guilty of justifying my behavior and blaming others for my failures. Discipline forced me to take responsibility for my actions in thought and in deed. It enabled me to peer through the microscope of pain and gain a clear view of my heart. For while I can lie to others, I cannot lie to myself. I can create the fantasy world and even live fairly peaceably in it for a while, but reality cannot be escaped forever, just as my hunger could not be ignored upon relinquishing my money to a machine that did not pay off.

So why discipline? Because I want something real. I am tired of the fantasies.

Next time…
How to Discipline