Becoming Michelangelo

Warning: monumental achievements about to be discussed!

I remember hearing a story about Michelangelo, who was a sculptor long before he completed two of my favorite works of art (reproductions of which hang in my home)--The Last Judgement and the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

It was said that he would look at a blocks of marble and find the statue that was already waiting inside. I believe it was when he was selecting the marble for his iconic statue of David that he had to go to quarry after quarry until he finally found the block of stone meant to become the work. Then, he said, he just had to cut away the stone until that which had always been there was revealed.

A final product, illuminated, from a recent bike ride.

I'm finally at the point where I feel like I'm becoming Michelangelo. After losing 110 pounds, I can see what is left to be stripped away. I know, in the process, that I will also add some muscle. I'm curious to see what the final product will actually look like, but I'm getting to the point where I can start to see what was meant to be all along.

It's been a long, hard process during the past two years, and the anniversary of making this radical change in my life is May 8, the day after my birthday. In the past six months, I've had to come to grips with several realizations:

Feeling as fragile as the cherry blossoms ...

1. There was a reason why I felt so incredibly fragile for several months. It's a common thing amongst people who come close to halving their weight. You see it on The Biggest Loser, and also in blogs like mine. A friend shared a blog of someone who lost more weight than I ever will, and she railed against the idea that there is an "after" to the weight loss journey. The full blog post, which is very, very real and emotionally raw is here.

What I know is that I am proud of this woman for what she has accomplished, and her concerns are very real: just because you lose this much weight and achieve your goal doesn't guarantee happiness. You are still who you were, with the same emotions, psychological and intellectual gifts and challenges, and the same family of origin and other dynamics you started the process with. You weigh less, and people react to you differently. Unless you change beyond those superficial characteristics, it doesn't change you, except superficially.

Sometimes our lives our like landscapes, beautiful, but barren.

I am equally proud of her for insisting that no one bash who she was before because it is still her. I'm willing to bet there is more discipline in her life and she can do things she couldn't do before, but she's still the block of marble she started with, just shaped differently.

2. I'm convinced that the reason people don't keep the weight off (and this is a concern that has been voiced to me many times during the journey) is that they don't change what got them there in the first place.

Some changes are meant to be seasonal ...

They view the "change" as a temporary "diet" that gets them to a goal so they can go back to what they did before ... which gets the same result. That, and when they hit the point that they're no longer comfortable with what they see in  the mirror, they're not willing to work to adapt to the new reality. Also, how others treat you becomes subtly different and if you don't re-establish yourself, it can be very easy to go back to what was once comfortable.

 3. Permanent change doesn't happen unless you accept where you've been, in all its glory and all its mess.

Glorious first-place triathlon shirt

The glory part is the accomplishment of losing all the weight, doing the 5Ks, the 10Ks, the loaded bike camping trip, the century bike ride, the triathlons, and yes, finally placing first amongst all of the women for the first time in an indoor sprint triathlon (and 7th overall among more than 80 competitors, full results here). All the great tales, fun experiences, and entertaining reactions from friends old and new.

Then, there's the mess. You see, I had a lot of mess in my life--bad eating habits I had grown up with, eating to handle stress because that was the stress-defense mechanism modeled for me for years, never being exposed to much exercise beyond walking. These were habits that had to be broken one at a time. I had to learn better general nutrition, portion sizes, and now how to eat based on my workouts. I had to learn how to handle stress without eating my way through it, and how to reduce the stress in my life coming from both past and present situations. And I had to learn how to work out in different ways and embrace different types of exercise to make progress.

Sometimes, you can't see the forest for the trees;
admittedly, this is a rather pretty forest

But, above all else, there was a main reason I ate that had to be addressed. I hit a point in my life a decade ago where certain unresolved issues from the past had to be resolved. The issues were not of my making, but I had to unmake the consequences. It took years of counseling and hard work. During that time, I knew I had no right to be in a relationship with anyone and I turned to food as my "comfort" and told myself I didn't need to be attractive anyway because I needed to deal with what I was dealing with and food was the least destructive out.

Notice that phrase: least destructive. Not healthy, not neutral, not non-destructive,  but least destructive. Regardless of what was done to me, or what hand I was dealt in life, focusing on taking comfort in food was my own personal choice. In reality, no one held a gun to my head and forced me to eat. No one else was responsible for the 50+ pounds I gained at that time. It was all me and my choices. They were bad choices. It doesn't matter that there were worse choices available (a lot of people around me were doing drugs or being promiscuous as a way of dealing with similar issues), they were still not healthy. Even if I hadn't ever exercised more, if I had simply not eaten as much, I would have saved myself a great deal of time and effort now. I am undoing the result of my own deliberate actions. And that was something I had to face up to during Holy Week this Lent. Funny how after that I finally hit the 110 pounds lost mark. Raced across it, in fact.

First place flowers--thanks to Dave!

And, after six months of feeling oh-so-fragile, I finally started feeling like myself again. The old, kick-butt Rosemary that started this crazy venture so long ago and yet so recently. The woman who knew it was daunting but also knew she would never ever give up because it was finally time to put all the old ghosts in their place and for the phoenix to rise from the flames and ashes.

So here I am, becoming Michelangelo in the home stretch. Not because it's what the world expects. Not because it's what someone else finds attractive. Not to get a different response from the men around me (or the women, for that matter). Not to put anyone else in their place or look down on anyone. Not to place myself above anyone else or to hate the me that used to be.

I'm doing this because my life is a gift from God and I want to make manifest His grace in my life. I want the me that He sees to be freed from the rock of the past. I want the people around me to see what a striking cooperation with grace looks like.

If I wind up with battle scars from the process, so be it. Even Christ had wounds on His glorified body after the Resurrection. He didn't make the past not happen, He glorified His wounds so everyone could see the triumph of grace over sin.

I want that to be the living legacy of this journey; that it is possible, through grace, for all things to be made new. Even, and perhaps especially, me.