You may have noticed that I’ve been absent for the last few weeks. In truth, I have been struggling and have let my dedication to meeting my health goals slide.
I’m writing now, though, to sort through this and make sense of it — not as much to you as to myself. As much as I write about sabotage, and as much as I have insisted, lately, that I have claimed to triumph over the issues that made me stumble, the truth is that I’ve let emotion make my decisions instead of logic.
The mass of learning I’ve done over the past eight years tells me that I’m at my best in all things when I have my eating in order. I’ve felt the effects of weight gain; it’s harder for me to walk the distances I once did, carrying weight I didn’t carry even just a few short months ago. My thinking isn’t as clear as it is when I am in control; I seriously am fuzzy and forgetful when I eat too many carbohydrates. I walk into rooms and forget why I entered, and while some of that is simply time working against all of us, the rest is the loss of clarity I gain when I kick sugar out of my life.
I don’t like having to wear bigger clothing. I don’t feel at all comfortable in myself. I feel awkward in my movements.
Those bad times that used to be my daily experiences come back, and I try to shove aside the reality of their return while enjoying stuffing my face. Because that’s what I’ve done far too much of, holiday season or not.
Yes, I’m mad and disappointed with myself, despite having enjoyed the foods I’ve eaten. I’ve been in this exact same place enough times to know that the metabolic issues that landed me in those dark days in the first place will be with me always, and I have taken a stand this week to do better. Already, I can feel clarity returning, and now that the fog is clearing, I know I need to rededicate myself to the fight before me.
The occasional treat isn’t bad. Not if you keep it in perspective and leave it at one. It’s the emotional tie to continuing those treats that creates the problem. That blooming feeling of I deserve this just once opens to what the heck, I’ve blown it for the day, so why not? followed by I’ll worry about it next week and enjoy it, now. Before you know it, that one treat becomes a month of vacillating between just once and it’s not fair that I’ll have to live the rest of my life like this. Because when you land in a pity party, it’s time for that Come To Jesus talk with yourself.
It’s not just about stop eating that. It’s about recognizing that there’s a trigger that sets me off. It’s about forcing the right mental attitude to deal with the trigger(s). It’s about remembering that what I’ve accomplished is far bigger than the taste of key lime pie, the anguish over wearing a larger size, and that I’ve already proven that I can do this. Until I can conquer the triggers, and have a plan in place for how to deal with them, I must dedicate myself to doing the things I know work for me.
That’s where I’m headed — forward — rather than stumbling into the potholes that left me giving up in the past. Every journey has potholes; it’s up to me not to drop into them and keep moving down the road.