Let Small Be Enough

Breakfast: vanilla yogurt, raspberries, blueberries, dates, walnuts, cinnamon

I’m in the groove. Since the pandemic lockdown, I’ve been dieting. Sort of. After the little office where I work closed up in March of 2020, I began cutting my meals in half, foregoing sweets and exercising. I was one of the lucky ones, able to work from home, and because I believe in gratefulness, I decided not to waste the opportunity.

I figured walking would be the perfect way to begin an exercise program. I enjoy it and I don’t have to purchase loads of fancy exercise equipment. I usually set out in the early morning on a local, two-mile route, which is, for me, not too long or too short. I also added climbing two staircases twelve times each. Stair climbing is a strenuous exercise, great for rainy days, but I try and fit it in about twice a week because it builds muscle tone quickly. This was the easy part.

Honestly, though, dieting? Ick.

Love pasta. Love bread. I’m not a dieter. I’d rather climb stairs! But I believe in serendipity. So, when an article about the Mediterranean Diet floated into one of my news apps, I jumped on it. I actually eat pretty well: grapefruit, bananas, apples, apricots, pears, kale, spinach, artichokes, avocado, asparagus—fruits and veggies are favorites. My then boyfriend (now husband) teased me often when we were dating about eating Brussels Sprouts instead of popcorn during a late-night movie. The problem is I love bread, pasta and ice cream just as much as leafy greens. The Mediterranean Diet caught my eye because eating foods like olive oil, flat bread, feta cheese, tomatoes and avocados is right in my wheelhouse. I thought, I can do this. I bought the book and started reading soon after the Prime deliverer dropped it on my doorstep. (Thank you, Prime person. I appreciate you!)

Six weeks later I’m down an additional ten pounds. It’s quite exciting. But. And here’s where it gets tricky. I have to keep focused on small goals. If I look too far into the future, I’ll give up. Like I have so many times in the past.

I’ve long suspected a connection between losing weight and finishing my novel. A little voice in my head over the years has repeated Find a way towards skinny, and your novel will write itself. Now, I don’t know who this chick is, but she speaks with a very deep, secure tone. She’s very balanced, very mysterious. She’s annoying. In fact, she’s so annoying I ignored her for the last five years. But pandemic-lockdown-vision (my name for it, not science’s) caused my brain to view all kinds of things differently. Probably because I’m half starved for human companionship. (Getting together with friends seems like some kind of far-fetched science fiction fantasy I read once while binging on Ben & Jerry’s Salted Caramel Brownie. Thank goodness vaccines have become a thing.) One night, a bit looped on red wine, I heard her deep, secure voice again: Find a way towards skinny, and your novel will write itself. This time it made sense. Holding up my glass to cheers her, I slurred back, “You’re schhho right, schister!”

As soon as I took the voice seriously—I’ll call her Morgain (aka Morgan le Fay) because she feels like a sorceress—things changed. The voice understood something I didn’t: small steps are key to unlocking the first secret door. You’ve heard it ad nauseam: A Day At A Time, Baby Steps, A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and so forth. Add to those another cliché, but still one of my favorites: When the student is ready the teacher appears. It’s a mystery to me why advice I’ve read or heard over and over one day rings that proverbial bell. But I’m glad when it does. It means I’m finally learning.

And this time the teacher was inside me all along.

So many times I ignored Morgain, and what I discovered, not intellectually but in my heart, was that she, this voice, is gold. Morgain whispers what I want, what I really want, and even how to get it. I discovered my annoyance with her equals my fear of her truth.

And since small steps bring success, I’m going to start with this first, simple lesson: create the long goal, but honor the small steps every day. Let them be enough.

At this point I’m asking myself how? Losing weight, writing a novel—how will I ever achieve these goals with everything else I have to do? Morgain wants me to realize these goals are more about who I am—or was at some point in my life.

When I change how I look at a situation, I change how I react to that situation. Example: When I feel stressed, I can’t write. I eat instead. But, facing the stress before reaching for a bag of chips is a much better way to get beyond my impulsive behavior and act with intention. And, asking the right questions can help untie those knots.

Before downing the chips, I ask myself, What’s bugging you? and Why does stress equal eating? The first time I did this, a couple of my answers surprised me: 1) I found I was hiding from success. Losing weight meant I was losing something, and that something was the old me, the me I’d known for years. The bag of chips was a friend, a thing I could grab in the here and now. The new, skinny girl named Success seemed far away, a stranger. I didn’t know her. 2) Some of my early self-images evolved during high school, and the wild, artistic girl of those days who stayed out late and broke curfew still resides in me. She wants to be “cool.” Getting work in on time isn’t cool. Following some ridiculous rules about health and wellness aren’t part of wild, artistic girl’s persona. Morgain understands that girl and knows how to help her. If I listen closely, she’s telling me that wild, artistic girl will like being skinny and finishing a novel. Because, really, to wild, artistic girl, there is nothing cooler than that.

Taking a breath before reaching for the chips—invaluable. I can move forward, focus on my next chapter while I eat a healthy snack or choose to eat nothing at all and drink water. With this pause, this breath, I’m more in control and able to make decisions. The breath helps me step back from the immediate emotion, the stress, longing, worry, doubt, whatever it is I’m feeling in the moment, and helps me refocus my intention. This is difficult work. It hurts in all those “comfort places” where I’d rather reach for pleasure. Morgain says, no. Accept the pain of change.

But in small doses.

Small is good. Small is manageable. Small offers a win to build on.

I still have weight to lose, but today I’m celebrating an overall 20 pound loss and my new daily writing habit by starting this newsletter. And wild, artistic girl is feeling cool.

What are you celebrating today? Please share in the comments!

Until next time, let small be enough!

Jan

*Thanks so much for reading!