I’ve deliberately refrained from blogging about my most recent journey in physical health. When I started in January, I wasn’t certain I’d be successful. I wasn’t keen to leave another record of another failed attempt to get my life together. My blog and book shelves are full of optimistic attempts that ran out of steam after a few days/weeks/months.
This effort has been different.
Yes I say that every time.
This has been my most consistent effort, even if it’s been full of stumbles lately.
In January I signed up for an 8 week challenge. I couldn’t afford so I put it on a credit card. The person with the best results got their money back. I told myself I had to get the best results so I could pay off the credit card charge. Over 8 weeks I had a trainer that gave me personalized meal plans and work outs. I was pretty religious about following the meal plan and I worked out twice a day every day. In the end I lost the most weight and won the challenge. The high of winning was indescribable. The recognition and praise were intoxicating. I got some skinny jeans, posted pics and basked in all the likes and comments that rolled in.
But the high was short lived.
I signed up with the monthly coaching. I have an accountability group that’s so supportive. I have an amazing trainer that I probably don’t deserve. He pushes me and encourages me. He gives me all the tools to be successful, but I’m still failing.
Miserably.
I saw a post online that said something to the effect of “You can eat right and exercise but if you don’t fix this shit going on in your head, you’ll never be healthy.” And that’s where I’m at now.
I’ve been skipping work outs and eating whatever the hell I want. I haven’t been logging my meals. I haven’t entered my weight. It started with birthday parties and holidays around Easter. Then it became weekend “I deserve this” treats that turned into depression/anxiety binges.
Today as I sat in the car crying and stuffing my mouth with chips and m&m’s I finally really saw myself. I think I’ve known this for awhile, but knowing and admitting are two different things.
My eating is the self abuse I can get away with.
If I got stressed at work and pulled out a razor to cut myself, my co-workers would (rightfully) freak out and intervene. They would call me out and do whatever it took to stop me from hurting myself. Because that’s what we’re supposed to do.
But when I get stressed and run down to the vending machine for two bags of chips and m&m’s, no one says anything. No one tries to pull the snacks from my hands. No one intervenes to tell me stop sabotaging my meal plan and workouts.
In this day and age of body positive anti-fat shaming, no one tells you shit if you’re over eating. So much of our social construct revolves around food. We eat to celebrate, we eat to grieve. We give food to communicate love and appreciation. And it’s not like we’re giving carrots or bringing baked chicken breast to the pot luck. No, it’s the cookies, cakes, candy, and good old fashioned comfort foods. It’s the wine, beer and snacks. It’s where we get a sense of community.
So take all that and imagine how hard it is to get over an eating disorder. It’s not like drugs, or drinking or cutting. With those you can just stop doing them. Sure it’s hard as fuck to stop doing them, but you don’t have to have them to live and be part of society.
You do need food though.
You can’t just stop eating. Because then you just trade one compulsive eating disorder for another.
Learning how to have a whole new relationship with food is hard. It’s everywhere and it requires this mental battle all the time. I literally scream at myself mentally. I cry a lot when I eat now. I don’t enjoy food anymore. None of it. Not the good for me stuff or the bad for me stuff. It’s pretty depressing and I’m not really sure where to go from here.
I keep trying to get back on it. I keep reminding myself of the things my trainer told me. “Self discipline is self love” and “if you quit you, you’ll be back where you started and back when you started, you really wanted to be where you are now.”
I can feel myself spiraling out of control. I can feel my grip on my metal health slipping and it’s scary.
So much of my life is in a free fall right now and I’m getting lost in it all.
I haven’t quit yet though.
Tomorrow I’ll wake up and try again.
At the end of the day that has to count for something.
thistlesandweeds 