It’s pretty sad when you’ve been away from your blog for so long that it doesn’t even show up in your browser history. That’s a long absence.
When I get into trouble – when things get hard – I disappear. And, well, I got into trouble and things got hard, and under my rock I climbed. It’s second-nature behavior for me. I’m good at recognizing it but haven’t yet succeeded in rethinking/reframing/rebehaving in a way that helps me through the challenges vs. just running away from them.
I’m reading a really great book by Geneen Roth called Women, Food and God. Because I’m a woman, obsessed with food, and utterly conflicted about God. So it’s a good fit, and a real eye opener.
When I read these “kinds” of books (and let’s face it, I’ve read a LOT of these kinds of books), I tend to underline passages that resonate with me. I’ve probably underlined 1/4th of it thus far and I’d *love* to post them but they’re so many I’m sure I’d get sued for copyright infringement.
What’s grabbing me the most, the thing that makes me tear up when I read it, is just how much I’ve used food as an escape. I have finally figured out that I’m not one of those people who says they “just love food.” I don’t love the food. Most of the time, I loathe the food (as I’m shoveling it down my gullet). What I love is what the food does for me. I love how the food makes me feel for the nanosecond I am eating it…before it’s gone.
There’s a line in the book where she writes (and I’m paraphrasing) that basically all the evils of the world would vanish when she’d eat a Hostess Sno-ball. In that moment, she became all that she didn’t believe she was at the moment. Until it was gone, of course.
When I eat, I am normal. And whole. And loved. When I eat, it’s a reward for putting in the extra hours (although, if I didn’t put in the extra hours, I wouldn’t be eating as poorly as I do). When I eat, it’s because I’m “treating” myself (even though 90% of time, the food is kinda crappy). When I eat, I am not the me I otherwise know myself to be (even if that “me” isn’t an accurate perception).
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So, yeah, there’s that.
I got into trouble not long after the “I think it’s gonna stick” post. Because, yeah, that was a smart idea – crowing to the universe about my newfound strength and resolve. Sigh. I found my eating habits getting a bit lax. I found my work life getting crazier. I found a seriously fantastic new way to distract myself from myself, and I fell off my wagon. HARD. And then I just abandoned everything I had been doing, and using every self-numbing tactic I knew. I found myself up 2 pounds on the home scale, and then skipped my Weight Watchers meeting. At the time I told myself it was okay. At the time I said that it was normal to have a gain after six great weeks. At the time I said no problem, I’ll shake it off and drop 4 pounds the next week.
And I haven’t been back since.
Nor have I gotten on any scale.
And I’m ashamed and embarrassed.
So here I am. Trying to grab hold and pull myself back from the brink. I’ve spent part of the day cleaning. Organizing my closet. Putting order to the chaos around me.
I’ve just thrown out my winter sweaters – my fall back clothes. They are so overworn (because nothing else fits and I hate shopping) that I couldn’t bear the sight of them anymore. Come next winter, I will have to buy new clothes, regardless of my size. I pray they will be smaller.
I’ve thrown out my folder of clippings. I’ve been clipping magazine articles about anything and everything for probably 10 years. Diet trends. Weight loss success stories. Exercise cards. “7 Ways to Feel Fearless!” kind of psychobabble. I’d look at my folder and always say to myself, “one day I’m going to work through that.” I would convince myself that my salvation would be found in the next story or sample menu. And, really, all I’ve ever done with it is schlep it from house to house, fiddle with it occasionally, and put it back wistfully because I wasn’t “ready” yet. Well, I’m never going to be ready. So it’s in the trash. I saved maybe 12 out of what is easily (no exaggeration) 200 pages. One page is a closet I covet (for my “next house”, of course). Another two pages are charts from when I was working with a trainer on free weights about, oh, 7 years ago? I’d like to get back to those numbers. I saved a group of pages from People’s “I Lost Half My Size” series because I look so much like their Before pictures – if they can do it, so can I. And I saved one article of a woman who started losing 150+ pounds after 40. Because 41 is ready to slap me upside the head in 2 weeks.
So, no, I don’t have any clue if *this* is going to stick. But I’d like it to be a tad sticky, at the very least. The fact that I’m posting today instead of deleting my entire blog (something I’ve done before), is a positive step in that direction – as is admitting how I’ve failed yet again.
I haven’t decided if I’ll be at my WW meeting on Saturday. As I think about it, I hear a friend’s voice in my ear asking me, “Why not just go?”
Perhaps.
