On failure

Pretty much the most awesomest commercial ever. 

My favorite part is how they conveniently leave out the #1 ingredient: sugar.

Let’s talk about failure. Not because I particularly want to, but because failure is an inevitable part of change. And it stinks. So how do we overcome it? Do we ever? Have I? Stay tuned . . .  (dun dun DUN!).

(Um, I’ll cut the suspense. Nope, I’m still pretty much mired in failure. I hope I didn’t ruin the ending for you.)

I was really nice to myself when I started exercising and losing weight. Every day was filled with baby steps, and I stuck to my little slogan of “Progress, not perfection.” Putting my exercise shoes on and popping a DVD into the player was cause for celebration. Choosing vegetables instead of garlic bread, or a piece of fruit instead of a chocolate bar, was almost easy (at times!) and made me feel satisfied and accomplished. I started to get stronger and faster, my jeans were getting looser, and I was on the road to success.

I had this thing figured out. No big deal.

We can all see where this going, right? I kept going for a long time (mostly because I had a looooong way to go) but in the end I had a day where I crashed and burned and ended up face down in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. I felt gross and my belly hurt and the next morning my scale mocked me. Instead of a three digit number, the LED screen might as well have spelled out “You are never going to change so you might as well stop now.” Dumb scale.

That was a while ago, of course. I shook it off, got back on track, and called it a one-off (thanks, Brits, for this incredibly useful expression). I re-focused my efforts and figured out what had gone wrong – the first mistake was buying the dadgum ice cream to begin with. I made promises to myself and felt SO much better (physically and mentally) when I was “on plan” and eating well and working out. I looked at my momentary slip-up and shook my head in puzzlement, wondering “Why would I ever do something like that again? I've learned my lesson for sure.” Until, of course, it happened again (no Ben & Jerry’s this time, instead the culprit was Publix bakery chocolate chip cookies. I maintain the lovely Publix bakery workers use heroin-laced chocolate chips).

I would love to say I have it all figured out. I would love the say that my health takes priority every day. I would love to say that all of my “failure” is past tense because I have overcome obstacles and now successfully anticipate and navigate the minefields of weight maintenance. I am a success story!

But saying all – or any – of that would be the BIGGEST LIE EVER. Because yesterday I was tired and cranky and stressed-out and, since I was at Wal-Mart anyway, I decided dinner would be a jar of Nutella and a spoon. While the commercial assures me that Nutella can be part of a complete, balanced breakfast, there was nary a whole-wheat waffle in sight – just me repeatedly digging into the jar, thinking, “I can stop anytime.” Ugh.

(Note: I want to be clear and say that when I’m talking about failure in these instances, I don’t mean having a portion of dessert or even having 3 pieces of pizza when you planned to have 2. I mean going back to old habits that I thought I put behind me. Dessert is good and pizza is yummy – dealing with my emotions via food isn’t.)

This morning? Besides the residue of a tummy ache and the sugar hangover, I realize once again that this path I’ve set for myself is hard – at times, let’s face it, excruciating – and there are some lessons I seem bound and determined to never learn. I’m also reminded that it’s worth it and that falling off the wagon doesn’t have to mean staying off the wagon.

At some point it becomes impossible to talk about failure without descending into really tired clichés. As annoying as they are, they’re handy little buggers, aren’t they? So here’s the failure-related cliché of the day:

You don’t fail by falling down, you fail by staying down.

So I’m picking myself up and dusting myself off. The (embarrassingly tiny) remainder of the Nutella is safely in the trash can; you can feel free to yell at me about food waste, but better wasted in the trash than wasted in my body. My running clothes are laid out and ready for 3 miles before dinner. Dinner is planned and healthy groceries have been purchased for the week.

I’m going to remember that I’m not a failure. You’re not either. We’re working on ourselves and have good days and bad days, and some days that we wish we could do over, or maybe wish they'd never happened at all. But, once again, it’s progress, not perfection.

And please, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT let me buy a jar of Nutella ever again. OK? Thanks. I’ll owe you forever.