Stop the self sabotage.

from trying to “stop” nasty things, to trying to “start” better things. Seems more positive, and perhaps a little easier?? I’m not really giving up on this, but anything that I might enter under this goal will fit equally well under health/fitness.

Not that I even like donuts, but still, I rarely walk past treats without stopping to graze a while. But this morning, I walked right past those donuts and instead brought a handful of sweet juicy grapes back to my desk for a healthy, guilt-free, goal-supporting snack. Yay me. :+)

as just the rearing up of old ugly habits. It started about mid-way through our vacation. For the first half, I was very dedicated to getting up around 5:30, writing my pages, heading out for a jog, followed by ten sun salutations and a very healthy breakfast. Until Tuesday or so, I continued each day to eat as nutritious and wholesome as I could find (which, by the way, was made surprisingly easy by the Disney folks – there were at least as many healthy offerings as there was junk).

Even at the obligatory buffet dinners I was able to fill up on salad and then choose (mostly) good stuff in very small quantities of entree food.

But Wednesday I had pizza for lunch. Then a few fries at dinner. Then a bucket (literally) of mojito slushies. Thursday – a few more indulgences. Friday – sausage & eggs & fried potatoes for breakie. Lunch and dinner were MORE indulgent; which continued into Saturday, Sunday, and even though our vacation was unmistakably over and I was back to work, I made even WORSE choices Monday and yesterday!!

I don’t quite know what made me think that a couple of fries ought to open the door to almost a week of gluttony, but here I am. Full and puffy and feeling disappointed in myself.

I guess I might have anticipated such a set back on or after a vacation, given that I rely so heavily on routine to keep me even keel. Hopefully I’ll remember and be ready for our next holiday.

This morning, without much effort and sans fanfare, I got out for a short jog, wrote a couple of pages, took care of a couple of very small little chores, and ate a healthy breakie. I didn’t have to give myself a pep talk to do any of it either – I simply acknowledged the truth: when I engage in these self-care activities I feel better than when I don’t. Period.

This evening I slipped horribly… you name it, I ate it. I’m trying so hard to forgive myself; it’s just one evening, and it doesn’t undo all the great progress – and great feeling! – I’ve made to date… but ugh, I’m so used to beating the shit out of myself for this kinda thing.

I’m going to go wash my face and hands, brush my teeth and hair, and drink a large glass of cold water. Freshen up, and regroup.

Sorry me.

This is huge! I just realized that I’ve been living deliberately and without shame, guilt or self-loathing for ten and a half days!! Wow – feels good. No wonder all you mindful, self-assured, healthy people enjoy life :+)

Since I have put out there the subject of complsive eating, I figure I’ll go one step further, a step into my past, really, and post this journal entry I found from a couple of years ago. The insights, the fact that they were mine, surprised me, but they obviously still apply, and resonate with my mindset still from time to time. For what it’s worth…

There is hope as well as fear in that there’s no telling what I might do next. The mystery of my future is its strength, because the present holds nothing I am proud of, nothing that sustains me. I look at each day as a possibility, a responsibility to do what is right and healthy, and each day I am disappointed, or really, I disappoint myself. I wonder what it would be like to be the best at something, to try and succeed, or to not be afraid of trying. It’s funny, I have these two eating lives, one which includes variety, color, texture, and flavor—whole, healthy foods that nourish and tantalize. I love food for its diversity, its balance, its possibility. The other eating life is something of a blur. In this other eating life I eat, too much, too often, not for taste or nourishment, but for comfort or control. I often eat the same things, each time thinking that placing that substance in my mouth, feeling it on my tongue, and swallowing will make me feel good inside, and yet I am never happier or better for it. Sometimes I do not even recall what it was I ate, or how it tasted. The almost robotic act of putting food into my mouth in this other, secret eating life holds no joy, leaves no imprint on my psyche, only on my body. The resulting fullness of my hips, stomach, buttocks, the increasing tightness of my clothing, the ongoing change in my silhouette, makes me miserable on a daily basis. This eating compulsion, the urge to fill myself, the one that occurs when no one else is around, is driven not by hunger but by emptiness, and by a yearning for fulfillment. I recall that when I was pregnant with my two children my eating compulsion entered into a remission of sorts, and I actually lost weight when pregnant, not due to morning sickness or nausea, but just because I ate when I was hungry, enjoyed what I ate, and ate for health. Most of all, though, because my body had import, my being purpose. For once in my life I felt beautiful. I was good at being pregnant, and as my body blossomed into fullness I was content, joyful, hopeful. For perhaps the first time in my life, I embraced my curves, my convex shape, and I was emotionally and physically full.

I walked right up to her late last night, almost nose to nose, and said “you’re not so bad, girl. I’m gonna take better care of you from now and on and you’ll be all healed up in no time”.

For the first time in way too long, I didn’t hate her – I felt love and compassion for her (and thought perhaps she could stand to have a facial soon :+)

still don’t have a handle on this goal. Seems like if I’m “gentle” with myself, I use that as an excuse to eat and drink whatever I want; and if I’m tough with myself I do the same darn thing!!

I was quite nice to myself last night – went home and instead of slogging through chores, I put on comfy clothes, put the garden noodle on to water the poor wilting plants, and sat down on the deck to read Week Two of The Artist’s Way. But I did it with a glass of wine in hand. Ugh. Then, after my Honey came home, we indulged in a little something else, and then ate chips in front of the television instead of going to bed at a time and in a state that would allow me to get up for the gym this morning!! So I’m quite frustrated still. ESPECIALLY since last night I read one of the simplest but most profound truths – (to paraphrase) It is far harder and more painful to be what I don’t want to be, than it is to do the work required to be what I do want to be. So true.

undermining myself – one step forward? Sure! Take a giant leap or two BACK!! Lose a pound?? Sure! Eat McDonald’s McShit for a week!! Love the new, vitalizing morning routine??? Go ahead – skip it!! Think ya might have a problem with alcohol??? You bet – pour another one!!

Ugh. I’m so sad right now I can hardly contain it – I can feel the tears about to erupt into a big, ugly mess of self-pity and disappointment and shame. I don’t even know why I bother with half my goals – I’ve failed to reach them for so fuckin’ long now – and have in fact just about gone in reverse for almost three years. I miss the old me – she wasn’t perfect either, but she had some self-discipline and I respected her for that. Where the hell did she go??

Yesterday I found myself making better choices without much struggle. First, after mindlessly chowing down about 20 M&Ms at work, I more mindfully decided that I’d had enough, and successfully resisted having any more. Later, when faced with the opportunity to have a chocolate cookie, I considered it and then decided there wasn’t room within the parameters of my goals for a cookie. Third, I caved and had a glass of wine, BUT I stopped at one, which is generally unheard of. And finally, on my way home, with no M to cook for, I thought about going to Taco Bell to pick up my dinner, and instead I decided to go home and make the meal I had planned.

So while it wasn’t a banner day for healthy choices, it WAS a banner day for not fighting with myself about anything. woo hoo!